Description: Well I wrote a massive essay about being atheist without losing your soul; but nobody is going to read something like that, eh? Then I reflected about what ACTUALLY happens to redundant deities and the like. There is a heaven for them, just as there is for us adult creatures: it is the delight of children!
Ten million names of God are best
but none of them are God:
the gods are away with the gnomes,fairies and nymphs:
gone odd where the even way came blest:
let the children give them homes!
And they shall become humourous Bads
in stories with lightfooted Goods
who frolic in the grass-stems, spangle-clad,
or opal-winged wend those wild woods
destined for joy though every damned Power roams:
That's all I'll ask of you about
ten million gods gone under bland books or stone cairns,
like cockroaches at Newish House, baited out without
grief nor gratitude, I ask you, spare your tomes!
Don't pyramid your stones, let the wise bairns
play with all that's old: give the cast-off servants homes.
Ah, the multifariously nefarious character of the names of God. Is (he she) truly any of them or possibly all. "Let the children give them homes." Words of wisdom.
"Don't pyramid your stones, let the wise bairns
play with all that's old: give the cast-off servants homes."
I fear they will try to establish new religions. Give God new names. Forget the stories of light-footed goods.