a stranger, the second advent
and yet one more desperate attempt to descry the tangled mosaic of symbols
engraved on the direction sign buried along the bedarkened path up to nowhere and nowhen. deafening silence interflowed with a routinous buzzing of a small bulb overhead spreading faint light around the lamppost, striving against giddy darkness of apathy all around. darkness blinds and makes it difficult to breathe overcasting thought and sense and memory.. endless bliss fed upon the sprawling plague of ignorance tempts to step into as though alluring voices of the sirens. united in diversity of apatetic coloration by helpless fear of running alone and taking an option, this immature idealism seeking for own ladder to self. what for? fading away electric light drops back into the torrent of existence. to rush ahead with a backpack stuffed with bulbs varied in power and size wrapped in blank papers of yet unwritten diary.. where to?