Vision of Ezra

Vision of Ezra

In the sorrow of silence,

when the righteous were forgotten

and injustice wore a crown,

I, Ezra, lifted my voice before the Eternal One:

“O You who formed the worlds with breath,

why do You seem so far?

The wicked rise and fall asleep in wealth,

while the innocent rot beneath their boots.”

“Your temple is no more.

Your name mocked in the mouths of kings.

Are You still the God of Abraham?

Or has the promise passed away?”

Then came a whisper like wind through fire:

“Ezra, beloved scribe,

stand and listen.

I will show you the truth behind the veil.”

———

Before me was a scroll —

sealed seven times,

its ink like stars,

its pages like flame.

And the voice said:

“This is the record of all things —

from the breath of Adam

to the fire of the last day.”

And I saw:

The first breath.

The garden broken.

The flood that cleansed.

The tower that reached in pride.

The Lamb prepared before it all.

And I wept.

———

Then I beheld a mountain of ash —

each grain a cry of blood,

each stone an accusation.

And the voice said:

“Behold the weight of the wicked —

merchants who sell the poor for shoes,

judges who mock the cry of widows,

shepherds who devour the flock.”

And I said:

“Why do they flourish still?”

And He answered:

“Because I wait —

not for their sake,

but for the righteous

who are still among them.”

———

And I saw the fire set apart —

not wild, but pure,

not to destroy, but to reveal.

“This is the fire of My judgment,”

said the voice.

“It shall come not in wrath alone,

but in clarity.”

“All shall be tried:

gold and hay,

kings and children.”

“The proud will melt,

the meek will shine,

and nothing false shall remain standing.”

———

Then I beheld a book of light,

and angels bearing names in silence.

Each name sang — not with voice, but with memory.

Each line a life, each life a flame.

“These are the righteous who did not bow,”

said the voice.

“Their tears were gathered,

their deeds remembered,

their reward waiting.”

And I saw:

Mothers who fed the orphan.

Fathers who chose mercy.

Children who sang truth though none listened.

And I said:

“They are so few…”

And He replied:

“Few — but eternal.”

———

I asked:

“What becomes of a soul after breath?”

And the voice said:

“It is gathered —

not to slumber, but to wait.”

“The righteous are embraced in light,

the rebellious in shadow.”

“Not torment for cruelty’s sake,

but the absence of all they rejected.”

“And on the Day of the Call,

all shall rise —

not as ghosts,

but clothed again in glory or grief.”

———

Then I saw the ground open without breaking,

and from it rose those forgotten by time.

Old men stood tall again,

mothers embraced children long lost,

and young ones danced who had died before their songs were sung.

“This is the first resurrection,”

said the voice.

“For those whose names were written in trust.”

“They shall walk in a new world,

with no more grave,

no more sword,

no more tears.”

———

Then I saw the thrones set in place —

not golden, but white like the morning.

And the books were opened.

The kings of the earth were called —

one by one.

Some trembled and wept.

Some stood defiant.

None could flee.

“The Judge shall speak,

and none shall answer falsely.”

“Each deed shall rise and speak its name.”

And justice shall not sleep.

———

Then I saw towers crumble —

not by wind,

but by the truth that could no longer be denied.

And the voice said:

“This is the downfall of those who built kingdoms on blood.”

“The merchants of lies,

the priests of power,

the teachers of fear —

they shall fall in the daylight.”

“For nothing false survives the fire.”

———

And I beheld the earth renewed.

The trees bore fruit in every season.

The lion slept beside the lamb.

The sound of mourning was no more.

“This is the Day of the Anointed,”

said the voice.

“The Day of Peace.”

“The King shall reign from a throne of light,

and all nations shall bring Him honor —

not with gold,

but with justice.”

———

And I asked:

“What of those who endured in secret?”

And He answered:

“Their reward is with Me.

The hidden ones — the quiet faithful —

they shall inherit joy.”

“They were mocked for My name.

They walked when others sat in luxury.

They chose truth and were cast out.”

“But now they shall be sons and daughters openly.”

———

And the voice said to me:

“Ezra, My scribe,

write what you have seen.

Seal it not,

but give it to the seekers of light.”

“Let it be a lamp for the humble,

a sword for the just,

and a call for the wise.”

Then I awoke,

and the world was silent.

But the scroll burned in my bones,

and I knew it was true.

In this scroll, the heavens respond to lament with revelation. Ezra’s cry becomes the gateway for a divine unveiling — not of fantasy, but of truth: sorrow, fire, resurrection, and justice.

This is a scroll for the weeping, the watching, the weary — a scroll of reckoning and reward. For though evil seems to reign, the day is already measured, and the faithful are not forgotten.