The lifting of all life... Order this book..https://shorturl.at/B7hoD

There came a day, silent and golden, when the Earth held its breath.

Beneath cracked soil and ruined cities, in forgotten valleys and deep ocean graves, the dead slept—some for centuries, others for mere days. Their bodies had long returned to dust, scattered in the winds or hidden beneath waves. But their souls waited. They remembered a promise—a voice that had once said, “You will rise again.”

That promise was about to be fulfilled.

Without warning, the sky split open—not with violence, but with majesty. A light, brilliant and endless, poured down from the heavens, not burning, but healing. The clouds rolled back like scrolls, and out of the heart of the light came a sound—a deep, resonant hum, like the voice of eternity itself calling the Earth to awaken.

Then the ground began to stir.

Dust shifted in the dry plains. Bones, long buried, trembled. In cemeteries, ruins, battlefields, and the deepest trenches of the sea, the dead rose—not as shadows or ghosts, but whole, renewed, filled with radiant life. Those who had turned to dust were reformed, their bodies glorified, shining like stars. From every continent, from every nation, they stood, blinking in the light of a new dawn.

Even the sea could not resist. It surrendered its dead willingly. From sunken ships and forgotten depths, they rose through the waves, unharmed, walking on water toward the light above.

And then it happened—the beaming.

Columns of light, tall as the heavens, descended like ribbons from the sky. The newly resurrected were lifted into the air, one by one, their feet leaving the ground as they were drawn into the divine presence. From the dust of the Earth to the height of the heavens, they were carried with gentleness and glory.

But this was only the beginning.

Those still living upon the Earth felt it next—a soft warmth passing over them, a peace that quieted all fear. They looked to the sky and saw the light coming for them too. They did not run. They did not cry. They simply opened their arms, and the light took them.

Children and elders, rich and poor, scattered across the globe—those who had lived in hope, those who had held onto love—they were all lifted, drawn upward in a great exodus of light.

And not only people.

Every living creature across the Earth, from the smallest insect to the largest beast, was gathered. Lions and lambs, birds and fish, creatures of every kind felt the call. In forests, deserts, cities, and oceans, they too were taken—beamed upward, as though the entire Earth itself was exhaling, giving up its breath of life to be renewed.

Animals that had lived in harmony with the world, creations that had once walked beside humankind in the garden of beginnings, were welcomed. Not one was left behind.

The air shimmered with light. The skies were filled with the ascending. There was no panic. No struggle. Just peace. Just joy. Just rising.

In the distance, the New Jerusalem descended.

Its golden walls radiated light that healed. Its foundations stretched across dimensions. It was more than a city—it was a new beginning. As the resurrected and the living were drawn into it, they found their places prepared—meadows, forests, mountains, oceans of still beauty—each soul and creature placed where they belonged.

The old world, now empty, stood silent. Its time had passed.

From the dust came life. From the depths came freedom. From the sky came the city.

And all creation was lifted.