The Pursuit of God Don Jaucian Weeds snaking up in crevices, forming strange letters Born out of divine consciousness. Letters flowing in holy patterns, trampled on the grey pavement. Streets well up with pieces, Humans twitching, flailing and drifting. Waking up in eternal disappointment In incandescent apparitions, underneath the dust of the infinite. Chains snarling on ends Vast, a cosmic wonderlight. Stars illuminating melancholy skies while spirits gaze up above, warm winds dancing beneath their feet.