for Daffodil Maddened by a mixture of Schizophrenia and love Paranoid psychotic I Live for love until I die Through the gothic arch of my Solar plexus I can feel Through the soaring gates of bone What is and what is not real Through the unknown to the known What is and is not to be Through the gates of ivory I know I am not alone Through the gates the looking-glass Down the rabbit-hole to pass Through my breastplate chest of brass To my heart inside of me There the Laughing Daffodil Blooms in me and always will +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMXIII