Dawn Of The Resilient Surge. Poem by Dan Reynolds

Believing in a dream is not a crime
if deep within you recognise the fact
that every dream will ebb and flow with time.
Their worth expands but can also contract.

What, yesterday was written, was rubbed out
to make way for a truth upon your page.
Your pity parties play upon your doubt
suggesting wisdom may not come with age.

For age can bring no guarantees of love
to last more than the wick inside the flame.
And like the hawk who spares the wounded dove,
tomorrow, both will recommence the game.

As tedious as sometimes it may seem
we could not live without the will to dream.