What gets left behind
with our unmade minds
forever rushing?
What do we leave behind
if we did not take the
the time to notice?
What is no longer mine
because neither you nor I
could take our time?
12/02/2024 j.g.l.
look around
Be thankful
for what you have, for
what you have to let go of,
and for those who are still
with you. Gratitude comes
in many forms. Look around.
Be thankful.
j.g.l.
cloud songs
It is only silence and only
for now, a minute or three
but who is counting?
Enough, for now.
Slight Repose, a little grace,
enough until you have
found your place. Might be
morning, or the end of the day,
yet it is time to yourself anyway.
For now.
11/29/2024 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.
Only Structures
Posted on November 13, 2024 by j.g.lewis
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The city has no direction.
Even the streets take you nowhere.
Sprawling. Stopping. Rethinking, recovering.
A destination as much as a distinction, home
to so many. Honoured by so few.
Only a place, only for a while, only to those
who wish to be somewhere else.
Identity. Community. Immunity for some.
Isolation within a population, advancing beyond
the imagination of so many.
To be a stranger is to remain present.
Loneliness. There is always a place.
This search for significance takes us
to inappropriate places: this city is full of them.
Each street. Every building.
The homes we pass by, the contents of which
we do not know; or understand. Only structures.
Will we find such a place where personal information
remains private property? Is it natural
or even possible?
Overlooking common sense, stigma, and the
interpretation of others, can we arrive at a place where
data does not exist?
How, then, will we document our days?
Who will keep track of our shortcomings?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
