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.
I am trying to remove myself from any added pressures so I’m trying to move at my own pace. Normally, however, my pace is somewhat greater than it has been.
Consistency, I feel, is important.
I have, normally or naturally, been fairly predicable; even in the most unpredictable ways. I feel I need to be less so, or maybe my concerns need to be less predictable. Especially when those apprehensions are not always my own.
Maybe that is my lesson: your pace need not be predictable, it only needs to be your own.
Lately, I’m feeling like I own too much of the pressure and that it has become an expectation of me to do so.
So, I’m trying to deal with it.
I suppose, in the process, I am trying to lessen all my expectations of (or on) myself.
Expectations lead to apprehension.
07/13/2023 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.