Finding our direction may take miles, or
days or years. Detours, disruptions and
distractions, no matter how purposeful or
meaningful as they may be, are certain to
prolong our progress. It takes time to know.
The journey is involved. Each step, or stop,
of the path allows reflection. We are guided
mainly by instinct or instruments, our moral
compass not often strong. Finding our true
destination will take days and years. Or longer.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
Each letter on its own, singular in its presence, distinctly strikes the page.
A single letter, one of 26 forming the alphabet, joins characters placed moments before in an irregular rhythm. The pattern builds as each letter forms another word. It culminates in a sentence, and then one more. Word by word, a thought that minutes ago was simply floating in the ether becomes a reality.
Each letter has strength, but joined with others a power takes hold and ascends into deeper thought. A stronger sentence lays down its humility next to another. Punctuation dictates the pace. The resulting paragraph takes you further as if an explanation or decree.
There is meaning in the madness that has unfolded. Until now.
After several sentences (perhaps even a couple of paragraphs), there is a point where the writer and the reader become one. The attention of each participant finds a commonality that may well diverge into separate meaning.
To each its own.
A word, statement, or stanza may pull each person towards another meaning; we all experience life differently or interpret our actions separately from others. Like a letter.
Always, there is more to write. Nothing is complete; that is both the beauty and the curse of the written word. We want more. Always.
Explanations are rarely accurate; truthful yes, but something is always missing. Or too much is said that it cannot hold attention. Morals shift, mistakes are only natural, yet we crave a more definite approach.
Details are so telling.
Say what you mean, mean what you say; to write it out is a commitment.
These are your thoughts, now, in this time, at your pleasure. The words may change, as will the writer, but in that very specific moment a realization is made or met.
It is truth, and it tells so much.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
The mind is full, yet the pages are blank.
Haven’t we all kept a notepad and pencil next to our bed to capture thoughts that arrive at night? Yet so rarely do we find the time to record what has been on our mind.
We only sleep when we dream.
We only dream when we sleep.
Dreams: we know we have them; those flashbacks that invade our thoughts in slumber. It is mental activity below the threshold of consciousness that depict or predicate certain moments in time. Often other people are involved, but the dreams are wholly your own.
We don’t take notes while we dream. We can’t take notes because we are dreaming; to do so would interrupt the flow of thought, thus eliminate the dream. You cannot be conscious to fully dream. You must rely on the subconscious thought not immediately available to your consciousness.
In the morning, you may write down what you remember from memory which is, more often than not, what involves a dream. Memory: the aftermath of life.
Dreams are not reoccurring but happen again and again. Dreams do not stop and start; they are continuous. We only choose to tune in when we need relief from the life we have been living. Any notes we may take are nonsensical. Dreams do not involve logic. Logic requires validity.
© 2026 j.g. lewis
Find slight purpose to every thought.
Each pencil stroke, intention or step is enough.
Only you will determine how much.
Inaction does not negate action.
Each action validates the next.
Perhaps that is its purpose?
Maybe it is only a thought.
It need not be deep.
If only it were just a pencil stroke.
02/02/2026
What is it about darkness, specifically the night, that provides comfort?
It is more than solitude.
Even by yourself, or especially when you are by yourself, there is aloneness.
It is not loneliness. There is nothing to compare it to.
There is nothing there.
At night, there is no one there to talk about it.
You can’t see everybody or anybody.
During the day you see everybody, and they see you.
Can they see your loneliness?
© 2026 j.g. lewis