I am the New Year, I am unused, unspotted, without blemish.  I stretch before you three hundred and sixty-five days long. I will present each day in its turn, a new leaf in the Book of Life, for you to place upon it your imprint.

It remains for you to make of me what you will; if you write with firm, steady strokes, my pages will be a joy to look upon when the next New Year comes.  If the pen falters, if uncertainty or doubt should mar the page, it will become a day to remember with pain.

I am the New Year.  Each hour of the three hundred and sixty-five days, I will give you sixty minutes that have never known the use of man.  White and pure, I present them; it remains for you to fill them with sixty jeweled seconds of love, hope, endeavor, patience, and trust in God.  

I am the New Year.  I am here – but once past, I can never be recalled.  Make me your best.

Happy New Year to all of you,

kommonsentsjane