They Held God’s Funeral





<title>They held God’s funeral</title>

on the Saturday after

He died.


<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


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


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