He had walked dusty roads.
He had touched the untouchable.
He had died, and then, impossibly, lived again.

And then came the morning
He gathered those He loved on a hillside
and spoke His last words over them like a blessing.

“Go. I am with you always.”
And then He rose.

Not carried away by wind or shadows.
But lifted. Deliberately. Gloriously.
Until the clouds received Him,
and He was gone from their sight.

They stood there, faces turned upward,
holding the weight of everything He had said.
Because this was not an ending.
This was a coronation.

The One who knelt to wash feet,
was now seated on the throne of heaven.
And everything, everything was placed under His authority.

The story didn’t close on that hillside. It opened.
And we are still living inside it.