The Thirty-First of December

Usually, when we celebrate,
we remember:

a child leaving its mother's womb,
the formalisation of love,
the departure of a loved one.

Tonight, we celebrate endings,
but we have no endings to remember
because nothing ever really ends.

In truth,
life flows into life
as year flows into year.

However,
I have no doubt
that the vast puzzle of existence
is gradually solving itself

moment by moment,
with each dawning of truth,
with each feeling of love.

I have faith
that we are gathered
in the midst of a perfection
being made
quite simply
for the pleasure of doing so.

And that one day,
everything will end.

And so all our celebrations of endings
are being held
in the name of that one ending
still to come
when all that was ever made or dreamed
is finally complete.