Poor Sylvester

Rays of light and stardust Are all just fine But life is long when the clocks are wrong Most of the time Poor Sylvester let it fester In his mind Losing balance, fraying strands Of life lines Chances are he's lost his marbles This time Splitting threads of memories For a sign That the empty space behind your face Is the same kind Of energy that lets us be Like sunshine Velvet thoughts and mystic prayers All combine In spiritually charged webs Of design Poor Sylvester pestered By the divine Falling forward back into A decline