I. Winter When I am furthest gone when deepest hidden Then is when the manatees are ridden Dugongs driven through the riven sea by me When seen the least to feast on fantasy Mano a mano a manatee or two When I am almost not when dugongs do Then to deal with what is real by what is not To feel what is what I almost forgot II. Spring Because what was given what is or to be Through me will be my what by whatever Still be all I ever know of forever Through thick to thin about free of my skin Seeing me freeing my bones outside from in More of the stars than so little of me The stars we are sparks through the dark unbidden Understood more wonderful for being hidden III. Summer So I write nonsense though I sense by the light Of one written gone flown smitten by night That what was wrong all along was what was right What was mad about me glad being who I was because it was good being with you Understood gone to wonder on and on Being who are seeing bright as any star Though out of sight through light to poetry IV. Fall Writing to reality through fantasy Furthest hidden deepest found from afar Though out of mind now to find out how we are Whatever forever never could be For we are what is in his and hers or his And his or hers and hers we are what is What by whatever no matter what and but For us lonely nothing or only what is not +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMXIII