Mourning The Passage Of Night Poem by Dan Reynolds

Mourning the passage of Night

They stood upon the ridges of the night
and surfed them as they melted into day
thus, heralding the birth of morning’s light
They leave our dreams in tattered disarray

The nihilistic Night Riders and I
are fated to forever walk the line
between the restless Ocean and the sky.
Beneath the breakers, searching for a sign.

The chariots, the sun has burned to ash,
which served their purpose, carrying their prize,
reborn each morning as the new waves crash.
Creation in crescendos of surprise.

The frantic, cold Atlantic of the North
reminds him of how little he was worth.