Same ice, fresh start

At midnight last night, an ice machine silently swept across our cosmic ice rink. It scraped off any major dings and dents and scratches we’d accumulated over the last 12 months. It rinsed and squeegeed everything that needed to go. And it finished by pouring a fine new layer of hot water onto the ice. In the time it took us to sing Auld Lang Syne, that water had frozen and formed a flawless new surface of ice for us.
The gates reopen, and we spill back out onto the rink for another go.

Same ice, fresh start.