She was born in the minds of prehistoric figures and has taken the face of animals, geological and cosmological structures, lightning, men, women, stones, sticks, statues and all else that man has lent animistic and godly qualities to. She raised her head and stood proud for the Hebrews in Yaweh, the Egyptians in Osiris, the Greeks in Apollo and so on, wearing each guise like a mask and making promises to the people, for the people and by the people. She stood strongest as Jesus Christ and Allah but began to feel her power slipping away as the minds of men traveled along new, unseen paths.
Nietzsche declared her dead and many agreed and thought her such; all were wrong. Only now is her breath forced and shallow, her firm grip on the minds of her own creators becoming weaker. And yet still she lives. She’ll die soon, tracing the steps of her many faces as existence fails her and men realize their own power, but not too fast and not too easily.
God is not dead but she is in her death throes. Should I live to see her pass I will pay great respect to her former glory and spit upon her ignorance. Our glory, our ignorance – our reclaiming.