The following is short free verse – or indeed, a short story – written when I was a violently atheistical teenager. It’s curious, reading it back now at a time when, strangely, I have more faith but less certainty. 



In the end there was light, and so many words in so many languages, cultures, a universe of understanding on one planet. And God said “I no longer exist, for I no longer must exist;” and then the people said it: first in their billions, then millions. Following this were centuries of commerce and industry, of pleasure and work, the worship of humanity the brightest light.

But then there came a congregation, a filling of churches, and millions did go there and praised the dead God, the only God they had known: thereupon there came Belief, and they said, “Who art in Heaven,” with their hearts in their savouring mouths, and love on their tongues.

The population became less numerous. They attended their churches and factories: they no longer danced, they exchanged bright robes for rags. Their Kings were in the thrones of the God, yet those Kings were ungodly and wicked. The men were weak, and in that weakness made women and children weaker. They began to obey the echoes in those marble palaces, in reverence of a Son who would save them, a Son beyond doubt. And the schools were demolished, and the poor worked and toiled and died in the fields, and grew fewer. There came wars, many wars, symptoms of the disease, the angry faith. The books were hidden, torn into pulp and buried in trees: there became but one book, Elbib, and it was the name of the book.

Then there was a time of great uncertainty, as the Son became folklore, a dancing myth of the mad and the imprisoned: and then the Son lived. There was no Trinity. And he buried himself in the earth for three days, emerged to be raised on a cross, and given life.

For thousands of years there had been devotion and disease, and the death of words: then the people left, with their scriptures; hoping for a Son, yet in the thrall of the Father. Their faith grew vague and forgotten, different, myths from Babylon and Sumer: the language lost its letters, its shape and its dance.

Life scrabbled after life. The moon rose and descended. The people were sickly, and savage, no longer people; no longer beasts of warm, red blood; no longer breathed the air.

Untold time elapsed. Darkness was brought into the world, for the purpose of creation. And the God said, “I exist, for now I must.”