The Lowlands

Floating in the lowlands with a lovers prayer
Doing nothing but push the day and breath the air
Storms descend on grey clouds falling
A valley wall to block means they are stalling

It rains in the mountains on jagged peaks
Slowly chipping as each drop seeks
to descend onto the dry ground below
chased all the way by the suns strong glow

after the rains the water cascades down
fills the valley, soaks through all the open ground
Its long after the rains that all the damp recedes
the soaking is not a memory that easily leaves

In between mountains the days are shorter
there is less light to let in to dispatch the water
the smell of damp seems to linger around
spores fly and the smell of mould abounds

I decide to try and get a better view
I push up the mountain towards the blue
climbing through rocks and then sheer walls
nothing will quench that yonder call

To get up and over to see whats beyond
of imaginations conjured I've become quite fond
mountainous terrain in between me and this dream
of people, of coastline, of a wide cleansing stream

a place that has moving water, but still in the mind
visions of people receiving, gentle and kind,
a man from the lowlands with a lovers prayer
but with less of a harshness and no cross to bare