Skepticism

The sun may stopped rising
Light in mornings growing
Horizon sky from sea dividing
Clouds of waves separating
Grey have been our days
For longer than one will remember
Not a breath of wind in weeks
And ages of the last rainfall
Yet the oars strike into the dusk
Steady keep the rowlocks sounding
Let the morning bring land or more sea
Into the dusk will the oars lead us
Grey is night
Grey new dawn
Grey the light