5 A.M. Poem by Louis Kasatkin

We all recall something else
somewhere else, someone else
other than the Here, the Now
and least of all ourselves
in this predicament;
We recollect the cadences,
the echo of the very long ago,
the fate and destiny of nations,
of future centuries unconceived;
Swaying on our threads of doubt
and all consuming impending failure
just as our forefathers did
trailing blindly across the quagmire
in the unlit darkness pressing on regardless;
Here now we stand in the greying twilight
of our yesterday, ever today never today,
what we seek what we sought
becomes what we sold what we bought
with meagre recompense for our days of toil,
aeons of labour bound, chained, bonded
unwillingly to the desire of others;
Those greater who fall, are falling, fell
even as we look in upon ourselves,
wanting, desiring, aspiring, striving
for that which was promised,
all that was promised,
all of our yesterdays, todays, tomorrows
Now.