Tonight, on New Year’s Eve, the sky is gray with clouds. Laden with snow, they cover even the moon like baking parchment. However, this seems to only soften and multiply its shine — like a lampshade — rather than obscure it.
But now it’s all black as the clock nears twelve, and some snow has fallen, like a rich amount of white Parmesan cheese, like when the waiter asks when to stop, but noone is stopping.
And I have a headache in my left brain half, the other half is full of confusion.
I think that it’s 2025 I am feeling still.
But it’s not even an hour left of that.
And I have great hopes for the future.
I saw this moon shining through on this day and knew that too for a good omen!