Ever the darkness, every night or
early morn, a moment for chance,
the time to begin.
Still, we wait.
Incessantly.
We do it again and again, enough
or a lot or as much as we can
if we care to admit it.
Why?
Can’t a shade of mystery simply
take hold, whether we like it
or not?
Must we always seek familiarity?
10/21/2024 j.g.l.
The Moon hangs low,
yet the Sun still rises.
Each day
we have another chance
to shine a little brighter.
Rise up.
Be radiant.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Today might not be what it is
without yesterday being all
that it was.
In a succession of events,
unplanned or programmed,
rarely do we consider
what has happened,
as it happens.
Sometimes we speak less
about things that matter
as we think we have
more time, as such.
Oftentimes
we do not speak of
things we should
as they are happening,
in the time that remains.
In the time we are given,
the present persists.
10/15/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
The Father they speak of accepts
the scent, custom or tradition,
of burnt offerings
incense incensed
God shall know
thou shall not
confuse disclosures
‘Father, I have sinned’
common confession
for those who
do not understand
a candle lit
provides protection from the flame
Evil ways
cast no doubt
on disbelievers
The silent thereafter hangs
as smoke above an alter
I know so little about
© 2023 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.