How can I tell the tale of lost light upon mine eyes, when it is the same breath that brought forth the pain of aching flesh. The useless day that need not come, for nothing lost that has not lived, and lived for that no choice. What point to ponder there is not one, what one in many have one, none. Is this day yesterday, or another day the flesh screamed until no more, only to ask without choice, to ask is this day yesterday.

M. Wolfe

Michael Wolfe

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/is-this-day-yesterday/