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if God could die...
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If “God” could die, then He was never more than an idol—
a brittle construct of priestly decadence,
a shadow cast by the herd’s fear of freedom.
The true God, if such a one were,
would not collapse beneath the laughter of the marketplace,
nor be buried in the rubble of cathedrals.
What dies is the fiction of the weak,
the hollow mask of divinity erected to tame the strong.
You proclaim “God is dead”—
but what you have slain is only the scarecrow of your fathers,
the pale simulacrum that demanded obedience.
The eternal does not perish;
only idols rot.
So let us be honest:
your corpse is not God’s,
but the corpse of man’s own invention.
And the task remains—
not to dance on the grave of divinity,
but to forge anew what is worthy of eternal recurrence.
