“Before the coma cradled me, I mourned its shadow—a coma of the spirit, a weight I bore in silence, grieving a life I thought fixed by gravity’s unyielding hand. Then it came—light, vast as oceans, deep as stars—tearing through the shroud, unveiling a truth I’d wept to know: we are not bound, but buoyant, not falling, but rising in a unity that knows no edge. The coma showed me—beyond this illusion, all is one, a spark eternal, free of chains I’d mourned in blindness.”