[Poem] The hunter
The hunter gathers his tools
and, loads up.
He heads out alone
for fear that the noise of a crowd
will break the silence of his thoughts
and that, of the surrounding.
He walks long distances,
taking short breaks and,
occasionally sitting down for a coffee.
His eyes, however, doesn’t rest, and,
neither does his mind.
The hunter walks slowly, and
even though the surrounding is noisy,
he can only hear his footsteps and
his own thoughts.
He sees the trophy, its back facing him.
He creeps silently, and at the same time
calculating the shot, and how it would be like.
He visualizes the instance he hunts.
The trophy, unsuspecting, remains rooted.
The hunter lifts the camera to his eyes,
takes a quick glance and at an instant, all is right.
He presses the shutter.
Light filters through glass.
Electronics signals are processed.
An image is borne.
