LOST IN SOLILOQUY, THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER POUNDS THE TABLE OF EXISTENTIALISM.
BUT WHAT OF ME? WHERE IS THE BEACON THAT GUIDES THIS CONSCIENCE?
IS IT NOT IN THE RENDERING OF MEANING THAT WE BREAK THE ENIGMA OF PURPOSE?
JOURNEYING TO A PLACE WHERE TIME IS CIRCUMVENTED BY PRESENT TENSE…
A VOICE INFERS IN GENTLE UNDERTONES THAT ITS PRESENCE IS THE EMBRACE OF ONE’S SELF.
EMPLOYING SYNCHRONICITY, IT DECREES OF HER THE DECIPHERING OF AN INNATE MISSIVE.
IN UNFURLING THE CATALYTIC COMMUNIQUE, SHE TOO HAS BEEN LAID BARE.
CHRISTENED IN EPIPHANIES, THE ODYSSEY OF INDIVIDUATION LAUNCHES HER MAIDEN VOYAGE.
THE FOG OF MEANING 