He is Risen, Indeed

The sun rises slowly over the hills, two men, armored, lay as dead. A stone lies on its side. Birds flit from tree to tree with song and life. Sunlight strides inexorably forward, warming the land. Small lives creep forward to bask, heal, rejoice.

The tomb is empty.

Footsteps clatter across the stone, women approach to mourn, bearing spices to leaven the dead. Gravel slides unheeded, clinking and scratching. Footsteps falter and hearts flutter. The sun crests the final hill, light streaming down to earth.

The tomb is empty.

Light, bright as the sun, shining like lightning, garbs the strangers, fear clutches as mortals gasp. A question from lips eternal fulfill a prophecy old. Why do you seek? Behold! He is Risen just as He said. The light of the sun warms the land.

The tomb is empty.

Tears flow as eyes confirm a rocky ledge unburdened by death. Hope grows, hearts strain, joy sings to silence nature itself. The world must know, the brothers must hear, feet run towards home. Streams of sunlight caress the world.

The tomb is empty.

Women running to tell stop. Recognize feet that trod a thousand miles, legs that walked with strength, arms that held the weak, the face that smiles. All air rushes out, the world spins, He smiles. Golden, rich, strong, the sun rises above the world.

The tomb is empty.

The Tomb is Empty!!

The Light of the World has Returned!