The sun's slowly sinking Why doesn't the ocean boil I'm sitting here thinking In all of the fresh dug soil With rainbows and dew And all the other things too I guess I don't know Why should it be
The sun now is quite low I guess that's where it should be Maybe it's time to go It's just that I cannot see What is with this game And why do we take the blame It all seems pointless It seems so sad
Where is our happiness Or was that a passing fad It's been a while I guess Now I can't even be mad From start to the end No matter the words I've penned I finish crying For all will spoil
Copyright June 29, 2010 by Timothy Emil Birch
The title of this poem is old Greek meaning "truth" or more correctly "un-concealed".