The day the Church dies there will be no sounds of joy among the godless:
No horns blown or parades thrown,
Rejoicing in the streets or marching to the beat,
No angels from Heaven to smite us down,
No Devil to laugh at our descent.
The end of the world will still belong to the sun,
When the Church takes its final breath
On a day no different than today
In a world with problems unfit for gods.
Where a frock is suitable only for Halloween;
A relic of a…