poeming it = No Man is an Island + Notice

I came across this poem in the Writers Almanac the other day. I am always amazed at how poets can slide so seamlessly from the profane to the sublime. Young Man Lighting Up by Raphael Kosek The young man paused        just long enough to cup his hand lovingly    around the cigarette lighting it before stepping out into the clench of four-lane traffic    weaving his way among us as I watched him    slim and confident, bent on reaching the store across the street, careless with the surety of youth, and I can only assume    he reached his destination as I didn't hear the screech of brakes or bray of horns as the light    turned.        The following day I recalled him    with longing,        something connate, and he grew    in significance because it was so insignificant—precisely why I kept seeing him    doing what we all do        cupping our hands around the thin flame of something    we nurture for good or ill as we step into the world's    thrash—confident, fully believing       we will reach the other side.

A palliative doctor honouring the 'unfinished business' of the dying and speaking to the many times people received comfort from the dead while dying. -- Such a relief that instead of using the word 'delirium' he uses the word illumination . . . . . https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbnBe-vXGQM

This morn woke to alarm, as I had an early appointment. Jumped out of bed, did not get my 1/4-1/2 hour transition time. Took a long time, maybe all day, for the fuzzies to wear off. Take a notice, next you are in this situation. ~ Coma wise, trying to shake or alarm people out of altered consciousness can have a deleterious effect, in my experience if they are not ready to awake.