in the final hours (of a year)

at least by one calendar, the final hours of a year are happening as this entry is time date stamped and the month that was the last month of this year was to be eighth or ninth or tenth in the rankings for number of entries per month and then, as if by some holiday miracle or munchkin speech, a minor flood of entries burst forth from the depths of the barrel as the energy waned to near comatose proportions and the language rebelled to product entries such as these, semi-descriptive jibberish meaning only some thing to some few who might care to ask or understand what might be going on in the mind of the writer and the statistics of the meaning of counting entries, for whatever it's worth, and keeping track, no less... we have many a river to cross, dear wise ones, and we are all prisoners in disguise, so to pretend it's alright now without truly comprehending the awareness of the reality of the consciousness of being all right now, well, it's a farce played by fools every day...

but sometimes, in the wee hours, it happens just like this...

whatever it is...

narf :)