A sad poem. Sorry about your friend. Our fixed ideas about God die and are reborn as lived experience shows us we cannot capture the totality of being with any fixed and finite conceptualizations. As we live we see the death of our little stories. Perhaps that is what you mean that God dies many times. I have come to believe that our stories about God are not God, and that our stories are attempts to catch a glimpse of the reflection of light off the multiple facets of God. Life, suffering and death are woven into the fabric of existence, as is rebirth of the world with each breath. Faith is our affirmation of hope that these arisings, existing and passing away have meaning and are redemptive even when our hearts are breaking, and that living our embodied life is a participation in the sacred mystery, and is beautiful and holy thing even as we fail to comprehend it. Stay well, James. You have passed on something of the beauty of Matteo to all of us with your fine poem.