My response, ex post facto

It's true, Nietzsche.
I will cede that in some places
in this world God is most certainly
dead.

And the denizens of these hamlets:
London and Paris, Vienna, Moscow, New York,
and even in Rocken where your father
extolled the hope of Christ
they share the fruits
of your philosophy of despair.
They walk with fearless footsteps of defiance,
And thump their chests in pride, thinking
how cosmopolitan their
cosmology of disbelief has become.

But at night, and in sober reflection
They wail because in their hearts
they believe they are alone.
They believe this because
you told them of the Death of God,
and assured them this time
there was no chance
Of finding an empty tomb.

And since they are alone
They do not hope,
They do not dream,
They are not fruitful and they do not multiply.
Why love if God is dead?
For what is love if it is not forever,
A brilliant strand of light that burns and
shoots forth from the mind of man
to join itself to the eternal
light of love and peace with God?

Strength to them, your students,
those who know, like the Other who sought to
hunt God from His throne, that the field is lost.
And now with feckless faith they
turn to study of revenge and deathless hate.

Buoy them up with dreams of the unconquerable Will.

But know it was not glory
Christ sought while dying in agony
upon the Cross,
nor to extort from you submission
to His inexorable might and wrath.
He bled, dreaming a dream of love,
The same love of life and hope of peace that
you spurned in thought, word, and deed.