Above the clouds, with the stars, sits a lighthouse full of books which wrap around the winding staircase until the tower’s peak hits the ceiling of the universe.
At this peak is a light which shines through a window. A long trail of gold which glitters brighter than any pot at a rainbow’s end. Those are just illusions you know. But this light, this light is real.
When you look out your window, in the corner of your house, or glance at the lamp at the end of the street, that light you see, flashing from the edge of your eye, that is the trail which tracks from every planet in every galaxy, right back to the small window at the peak of the lighthouse.
So when you greet the new year, the new day, the new hour, look up above the clouds, with the stars. You might just spot the lighthouse.