Humans have this phenomenal tendency to get stuck in the moment. We get stuck in our own memories – sometimes lamentations of a past we can’t let go, or saccharine memories we don’t want to forget. Moments are the defining lines of the fullness of our lives, they are the destinations on the road trip of human experience. 

The English word “poetry” comes from the Greek word poieo, which translates to “I create/make.” The word “lyric” is descended from the lyre, a stringed instrument the Greeks played alongside reciting poetry. The lyric poem is linked to Sanskrit hymns and is the form many of the poets mentioned earlier wrote in, such as the sonnet. 

In my pocket dictionary, I looked up the word cozy. I was curious because common words often have secondary or tertiary meanings that deepen the colloquial use of them. Cozy does mean comfort and warmth; intimate and relaxed in the context of a conversation; and soft and insulating as a cover for something warm, such as a teapot. But it also means complacency or an offering of it.