With outstretched arms
we give back all the cold planets
and the all the things he made us measure
All the blood red earth and
all the stains of blood on everything
that we found, and on all the things that found us
Then God will lay down his cudgel
all the angels will turn into concrete angels.
With the soft noise of paper, all the prayer books will disappear
We will say, “You can keep my stuff”
and then delete all those photos that should not be public
We will confess, and all the echoes of other gods will hold us in their arms.