Out of nothing emerges something bold: the Moai. The density of my stone façade and eyebrow’s fold mean business, as does my clockwork mind musing both on the minutiae and also the capacious matters of all the known and unknown universe. Listen now and listen well, for the Musings of a Moai will cast you under a thrumming spell. Now clear your whirling mind, and the Moai will likewise whirl your sterling mind back into the flux of a timeless motif cache that’ll seem déjà vu but will be something altogether new and never passé. Will you take the red pill? Will you sit still and peruse the thrilling musings brought to form from the pinpoint tip of this Moai’s inky quill? My Moai psyche is born from solidified volcanic ash within an Easter Island perfect storm, an Easter Island ocean swell. I’ll unearth all myth and will forever live to tell how infinite souls, and civilizations all the same, do interminably cycle through Heaven and Hell, Heaven and Hell — Heaven and Hell. But fear not, for Nirvana, that small chance you’ll break free from that tumultuous cycle, can be reached if only you’ll catch a wave on this Moai’s nerves and neurons a-musing on how all our everlasting souls can thus be saved, can thus be atoned under the scrutiny of Moai eyes made of stone.