I remember no time
Of sincere contentment.
Always been on a narrow path
Between barbed fences;
The unaccomplished yesterdays
And the treacherous tomorrows,
Whose promises had never been kept.
Even that is gone now,
So i cannot fool myself anymore
And escape the really thing.
Wistfully i look back,
I hear an undercut voice
Intersected with non-conforming whines.
Did i hurl the bait too far?
Did i put myself at loss?
My gaze fetches hundreds of people
Walking the horizon line.
Those same who in the past
Have walked before me,
Lamentably without my notice.
I wish I could simply contemplate the sea
and set me free from all the pain and grief.
But the only thing that flows free
Is the curly smoke I blow away.
Pedro Campos is the photographer who will join you every week at lundagard.net with his photo column.
He is studying “Culture, Power and Sustainability” at Lund university, and has previously exhibited works in Lisbon, Braga and Trbovlje (Slovenia).
