Dear Readers,

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    Cycles define us, and often we lack directionality to drift away. The moments spent awake at odd hours, or a member of the flock venturing the 'wrong' way, encapsulate when rhythm is no longer controllable. We sleep, breathe, and live in cycles, and when those cycles end, a part of us ends with it. Collected here is The Beacon's remembrance of the selves that once were. In summation, it is an account of how endings have made us new cyclical renditions of the past, describing what we gained and what we lost in that process. These collected poems offer several distinct lenses for understanding this drift: that of nihilism, sorrow, and rebirth. They agree, however, that changes define us, and our drifting is as essential as the cycles themselves.
   The Beacon is a student-run literary journal created with the intent to create a writer’s community that uplifts student voices. A special thank you to everyone who made this edition possible.

Sincerely,
The Beacon