Sounds of a motor racing outside,
a room with two lights,
ticking clocks
separated by two rooms,
both competing with some
synchronicity,
and him,
a gentleman to some,
pariah to others
well,
the latter
is his own sense of worth,
sense of being
trying to make sense of what it is like
to be a human being,
caring, compassionate, combative
with the reality of his dreams
being drowned in the excess of a sea
well beyond our grasp,
a place we find serenity,
when alone,
we can be with the waves,
our dreams
our wishes
washed out into this
whispered mystique
holds no bearing upon
our surreal matter
safest love.
© Scott F Savage 2019
