Surfacing from deep sleep, that moment br when the disciplined get up immediately, br the self-motivated can’t wait to get on doing their life, br the blest open their eyes with praise upon their lips, br the tardy look with horror at the bedside clock, br or the peremptory alarm floods the body with adrenalin, br while the rest of us pull the bedclothes over our head br to keep the world out of ourselves, or vice versa, br not I.. br br half-surfacing to some stony ledge br in the ocean of part consciousness br I am at one with every depressive, every would-be suicide, br every spiritual down-and-out, br every being who feels their worthlessness, br br as one inspecting carefully the contents br of the fullish bag of a vacuum cleaner br finding there, naught for my comfort br br until, if I’m lucky, some passing concern br for another human being br takes the place of fervent morning hymn br and I may feel I have some place, br some part to play in this strange drama br that we find ourselves thrust onstage to play, br wondering if we learned the lines aright; br br and after this chastening roller-coaster br of humility, mayhap another chance to seek myself, br I, dispassionately, rise.