(1)
The wise angel Raphael came to me. He saw me in despair by the tomb of God, and he spoke to me these words:
If God is dead, awaken him.
You shall be Jesus,
And he shall be Lazarus.
Feed him a thousand loaves of bread,
For he is much too hungry.
Cure him with the ingenious medicine you made.
Bless him and let him see
What life without him looks like.
(2)
God spoke these words as life returned to him and the doors of the tomb opened:
I know your face.
I have seen you in the eternal woods,
A lone soul wandering the heavens.
Go now with your science.
Break the invisible lock that binds the gates.
Through your art,
Make the souls feel again.
Let them enter who ask forgiveness from the fairies that dwell
in the eternal woods, where songs are like nectar.
If all goes well, if you have faith in my creation,
The Wheel will be simple to seek.
Turn it with all your heart—it is a wheel that days and nights depend on.
Let the nights pass away.
Let the day come early to a farmer who prayed.
And to those who killed and raped,
Let sunshine never reach their hearts till the day they fall asleep.
You can handle a day; I have faith in you.
(3)
I spoke, still bewildered by the living God who had been dead four days:
I will do what you command, Lord.
Answer me first, for I feel a constant fear from within.
For four days you have been in the tomb.
What did you see?
As the sun woke no more,
and the night drew its curtains of dread.
Did you pray in death?
Tell me what made you take this step.
Suicide isn’t easy, even for you. I know—
I fell into its inviting arm one day.
What despair fell on you, Lord?
(4)
His natural calm swept my confused face. He said:
I will speak to you of my despair.
He paused for a moment. It felt like an eternity. He added (while remaining fully composed):
On your way,
Pass by the house on the mountaintop.
There you will find three nameless children of Hesiod, the golden monk.
Give them this message:
God is dead, and your father survived my eternal dread.
He is by the Golden Shore.
He waits with your names.
Go then to the well by the Banyan tree.
(It has stood through winter alone)
And draw the water and bring it hence.
(5)
I left God to rest. Raphael, who was waiting by the road, fetched me my walking stick and a bucket. The night extended throughout the day. Raphael lost his wings. It simply withered away in the cold.
We walked through sombre lands—
The lands without God’s grace.
I descended by the narrow steps,
overlooking the sunless valley.
For four days, the foxes stayed alert,
looking through the tall grass.
For four nights,
The eagles asked which way their eyrie lay.
(6)
I asked Raphael:
Without your wings, do you not feel incomplete?
Do you not feel grief?
He placed his hand on the nearest tree.
“No, I don’t notice my wings.
I am Raphael in soul; my body is just to show you the way.”
Unsatisfied, I walked in distress.
You should see how Rembrandt painted you.
You should see how marvelous you look in it.
The light touches your wings so brilliantly.
Then you would miss your wings more.
But Raphael, unbothered, looked to the turning way.
He smiled and said, “Art is for humans. Let them see me fly with the wings they so desire.”
(7)
Around the bend, a man lay dead, rotting in the night. The foxes had salvaged his carriage.
Poor soul.
To lose his life in such a way,
What shall be done now?
“The dead don’t need our help.
God shall help him when Hesiod’s children are named,” Raphael said.
We placed him on the side of the road.
With my plea, Raphael granted his soul a chance to see
The eternal woods of heaven lay shut.
For four days and four nights, we walked in the endless night.
A moonless night,
a silent night,
Till we reached the long flight of stairs.
Three red lights, bright like the jewels of Orion:
Alnilam, Alnitak, and Mintaka,
Showed us through the fog—the final way.
(8)
We climbed the stairs for hours. Raphael now disappeared in the fog; he called me from a long distance above:
Hurry, the stairs end here.
I hear the voice of God.
He seems to have fallen again in despair.
Don’t you hear the world shaking?
(9)
The three children of Hesiod fetched my tired body. I lay for a brief moment in bed, unable to move. They nursed me and offered food from the mountains. I took a single bite, and I felt restored. Raphael looked out through the window, expecting something to happen. He called to me:
We should be moving,
Lest we fall to the bottomless pit.
Look how the wind feels here!
(10)
I delivered the message of God, wrapped in a material my science couldn’t understand—whose origins remained as mysterious as the Golden Shore. As soon as the children read the words, they ran in the night to the Golden Shore, whose location is known only to them, Hesiod, and God. Raphael told me not to chase them. ‘They will be safe,’ he assured.
(11)
When I was by the well, I stared at what lay ahead:
Endless fog filled the open air.
In this spiritual desolation of earth,
Nothing walked without the fear of death.
But in the far distance, I saw a tower—
sparkling like diamonds.
A greenish, yellow light spread everywhere.
The light even reached the heavens,
as far as the eternal wood,
lighting the souls trapped by the gate.
Raphael stood by me with his omniscient gaze.
(12)
As the fog vanished, the tower vanished too, leaving us in the night only for a moment. Then, in the far distance, waves! Waves! There was the sparkling shore—the Golden Shore. Raphael said this:
Look.
The children are united with their father.
Be wary no more; He has named them.
Now the names will spread across—
The seasons will carry the word of God
through the driest of days and the wettest of nights.
The bees will whisper in the ears of every flower.
The valleys will fill with laughter.
Rejoice! Everyone is happy except God!
(13)
The wings returned to Raphael! My happiness was beyond description.
Hark! Hold me tight as I fly!
The kingdom of God has returned.
Hark! Cry not; I will carry you,
my tired soul.
Worry not; the water shall not fall—
(14)
The bucket contained the last happiness of God.
(15)
We reached the doorstep of our home to find God terribly sick. Unable to talk, he only touched my face and smiled. He drank the water from the well and fell asleep. We waited by him as hours passed.
I asked Raphael:
What does God dream of?
“Many things, for dreaming is his creation.
He dreams outside of dreams.
But today, I think he is dreaming of sunshine by the Golden Shore,
The children playing in the sand,
as waves rise and fall with the Moon’s command.”
(16)
God died the next day. No one brought him to life. I journeyed to the eternal wood alone. Even Raphael returned to his abode. I fixed the gate that held the souls from passing. The fairies sang their tune as I turned the wheels. The dawn was near.