Lowland

Brought back down to the lowland places, off the highways where I don't belong.  Carry me from cliffs and falling places to the secure landfalls I've always known. Left to this lack I wonder and can't hide the curiosity that the sky should be my home.  Time is wandering and I can't breath in this place of in between. There might be hope, but it's beyond me now.  I'd like to see a sunrise, I'd die to view a sunset and let the fire burn me down.  Still, nothing can hide my calamity, there's nowhere to bury the darkness within.  But, burial never was what You do best.

Comments

[Kasey Martin]

I'd have to say I consider most of what I write to be more poetic prose than anything else, although this one falls into that category more because of the paragraph format I used to write it in I think. And, no, I've never really thought about writing music just because I don't play anything, and I really don't write very lyrically I don't think.

[dan lowe]

Kasey,

I love that last line, "Burial is never what you did best." It made me do a double take. Have you ever considered writing music? Furthermore, do you consider this poetic prose, or just prose?