Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

  • the seconds between

    We seek shelter, a leafy tree, 
    tenement steps, even pressing closer 
    to a random building
    in hopes we may be spared.
                      It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
    Ignoring the signs, we forget the distinction 
    between lightning and thunder,
    not counting the seconds between,
    or caring. 
    Overcast, overcome with the immediacy 
    of the moment. Summer weather 
    a reminder of the turmoil we live with, 
                                  or clouds we live under.
    A day as promising as a politician’s smile, 
    just as deceiving. Unnoticed, but not 
    unexpected. Forced, 
    by chance, to deal with inclement emotions 
    and torrential pain. Crushing humidity, 
    atmospheric pressure bucking 
    under its own weight. Our thoughts 
    hold us hostage. 
                            Days rarely go as planned.
    Night will come, as surely as our breath.
    Here we are, huddled with strangers,
    waiting out another storm.

    © 2019 j.g. lewis

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  • dormancy to reality

    If the first meal of the day 
    is the most important, 
    so too shouldn’t be
    your first thought?

    We wake, come alive 
    to a new day, refreshed. 
    Fresh. 
    The mind springs 
    from unconsciousness, 
    breaking free of dreams 
    and the complex thought 
    it has toiled with 
    through the night.

    As you slip 
    from dormancy to reality, 
    after you clear away 
    the residue of all 
    the nocturnal clutter, 
    what thought 
    remains standing?

    The unconscious mind 
    is often better able 
    to resolve 
    life’s complications 
    outside 
    of one’s awareness.

    Now, mindful 
    of what needs 
    to be addressed, 
    how will you 
    proceed with the day?
    And how 
    will you make today 
    better 
    than the day before?

    © 2015 j.g. lewis

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  • hard reality

    What ever happened to
    the peace and love we spoke of, 
    decades before? Our realism of idealism 
    before capitalism; humanity above profit. 
    Conscious thought. Truth.
    Was this a concept 
    within a dream, altered by greed 
    and get-rich-schemes 
    that became the way of the world. 
    Do we know how it happened?
    Can we understand? Why?
    Each generation judges those before, 
    every generation knows a state of war. 
    This reality becomes hard
    when the violence is right there 
    in your backyard. Fact.
    Something is not the same.
    We were young once. Age 
    now testimony to where we have been, 
    what have we witnessed, and
    how we have failed those 
    who shall follow. Evolution.
    How do we speak of freedom? 
    Can we hold a stranger’s hand? 
    Are weather-beaten symbols and 
    time-ravaged slogans relevant any more? 
    Honesty. Do we remember 
    how to make love, not war?

    © 2019 j.g. lewis

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  • it was so

     scarcely we remember
           humble beginnings

       the when
                    the where

         not consequential

       the why 
                         however
            a true miracle

         for a time 
         it was so

                     until it wasn’t

    there are no humble endings

         but we are humbled 
         by even its existence

    © 2022 j.g. lewis

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  • night driving

    Nothing is closer than it appears,
    anxiety reminding me of threadbare fears, 
    debt and delusion won’t find me here; 
    night driving takes it away. 
    I do not look back, but glance 
    at what I’ve passed, headlights meet my eyes 
    at the mirror, time has lapsed, 
    rear view explains I won’t see them again.
    From where to there, somewhere, 
    then back again. I drive. 
    Beyond the highway, white lines, traffic signs, 
    eyes align, taking it in and ignoring it all.
    If you can see past the sunset 
    you will always believe
    life sorts itself out at any speed.

    Streetlights shed halogen haze, 
    bleary-eyed travellers flowing either way. 
    Cars, end to end. Hypnotic blend, 
    eyes fixed, eyes focused, straight ahead. 
    Night driving leads me away and returns, 
    again. Depending on the view. 
    Spit-second living, rarely comprehending.
    Where is everybody going; not always home, 
    not always knowing. Destination uncertain, 
    we are all passengers 
    of our own accord. Mistakes,
    complications and reparations. 
    It’s taking and giving and letting it flow. 
    Driving. Night has no secrets. 
    Night always knows.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

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