Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

j.g.lewis

  • this puzzle

    Hesitation is seldom efficient. 
    Moments become a weakness. 
    Alone. Struggling with the blur 
    from one day to the rest. You
    try to see the hidden meaning.
    Will you write the right words? 
    Finding certain rhythm, sorting 
    out time. Each step or notion, 
    guarded breath or concurrent 
    emotion. Seconds, then minutes, 
    comprise a day. No silence with
    solitude. No path. Today. Clues, 
    random dogma, unclaimed truth, 
    passive aggression, as you work 
    your way through to the answer
    in plain view. Mystery in the grid.
    Seeking substance in this puzzle.
    Will you look again tomorrow?

    © 2020 j.g. lewis

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  • just a while

    The incandescent fragrance of lilacs 
    hangs in the breeze, enhancing 
    silence, accentuating the freedom 
    of the sleeping city at 3 a.m.

    A certain stillness, cars rest in suburban 
    driveways; toxic fumes dampened, 
    leaving little to blatantly disrupt the 
    balance of a slightly-starry night.

    Restless romantics lay half-awake, alive
    and questioning all likely answers 
    slipping through the window. For 
    just a while we breathe and sleep.

    © 2017 j.g. lewis

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  • hurting

    It hurts to hurt.
    It hurts to see others 
    hurting. It hurts to know 
    there is so little I can do
    to help others, except 
    try to be strong 
    for those I care for.
    I care more.
    I couldn’t care less. 
    It hurts to care. 
    If I say I try 
    to care for myself, it is 
    not meant to sound selfish; 
    it means I know 
    I must be strong 
    so that I can care for 
    those I love. 
    I love a lot.
    I am capable of more.
    It hurts to know I might 
    not be capable of enough.
    It hurts to hurt.

    © 2021 j.g.lewis

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  • collecting silence

    So much is worth less now than it was even last week, or last year. Do we consciously recall interest rates, the power of the buck, or the sliding scale of humanity? Here we are collecting silence without interest or any semblance of knowledge. Our truth seldom realized, we mainly struggle individually, collectively, anonymously, hoping there is room for prayer in the dialogue we create, the stories we tell, and memories we count on to provide some sort of satisfaction to our give-and-take existence. Emotionally depleted, morally depreciated, we learn (or we have learnt) not to count on politicians, talk show hosts, or even your daily horoscope for answers or admonishment. Do we call this survival or another attempt?

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

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  • sense of wonder

    When it rains 
                             it pours, 
    unexpectedly.      While 
    nourishing flowers and 
    washing away the filth 
    and debris 
    of seasons past, a storm 
    can also offer a new 
                  sense of wonder.
    There’s a scent to the air 
    after the rain, 
                               following 
    a deluge of personal pain.
       You may find rainbows, 
    and you will certainly 
    find puddles. 
    Keep looking up, but 
    watch where you step.

    © 2016 j.g. lewis

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