He looked up and opened his eyes. Everything was cristal clear; as if everything had been polished. He saw the tiniest details: the grains of sand glistening on the ground, the feelers of the butterfllies, the stamens of the flowers. And he saw the grandiosity: the little dots that were the planets and the stars, the space beyond the universe, the Grand Beginning.

And yet, he just sat in the kitchen at the table. Somewhere deep in the depths of his body, it felt as if a huge rock had shifted. Every word he wanted to use to describe what had happened deep inside of him, failed. He layed down his head in his hands and tears dripped on the table. Enormous gratitude and joy flowed through him. Liquid goldglow and silver brilliance took the place of where dark cold mist had lived inside of him.

He rose to tell about death that leads to life and was crucified.
Then he rose for the second time to tell that death and life don’t exist. A few people understood.
The third time he rose, he looked around with gratitude and didn’t have to tell anything. He knew that everybody Knew …