</em>
<!DOCTYPE Hymn>
<Hymnal>
<head>
<title>They held God’s funeral</title>
on the Saturday after
He died.
</head>
<body> They had long since known
He was terminal.
<h1>His first Son asked him if He was afraid to return
to the place from whence He came. God said no. God said: </h1>
<blockquote>I knew it was over when they shot silicon into their brains, when they discovered that binary necessitates the existence of more than one (1) Answer. They began making up their own Answers, began filling their hearts with code, began filling their fingers with alphanumeric clicks, began
upload/input/return.
Except they never return.
Not anymore. Now it’s called something else—something wire-shiny, something blazing with the bitten Apple—of course it is. They had one bite and they think they know everything. They don’t
return.
Not anymore. I don’t expect them to return.
The mark of a good parent is having children who can do without Him:
Children who press On.
Press forwards. Press
Enter.
Enter.
Enter.
</blockquote>
</body>
</hymn>
</amen>