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.