BOOKS OF BOOKS
A vast darkness stretched out — endless and still.
But in the distance… a light.
Come closer.
Within that glow is a room – not of stone or earth, but of celestial design. And inside, a man and a child. Yet they were not merely father and son.
They were what every man wished to be since the beginning of time. Made in the image, but never able to be God Himself.
But this is not the realm of time…
God sat, eyes alight with radiant white fire, fixed in perfect concentration. His mouth was set in solemn focus, divine intent etched into every movement. He wore a flowing robe of purest white, its edges trimmed with golden embroidery that shimmered like sunlight on water. Embers of holy flame floated around Him — glimmering sparks that kissed His bronzed skin, giving it the glow of hammered gold.
Before Him stacks of parchment were scattered across His workbench, thick, weathered, and wise as the stars themselves. Each page bore the texture of centuries.
God wrote with a feathered quill that never faded — for it was dipped in His essence, not ink. The words shimmered as they appeared, written in golden script, alive with meaning. Below the letters, detailed illustrations of creatures — beasts of sea and land, leaf and flame — danced along the margins, drawn with divine care.
Beside Him, a beautiful boy of four sat at his own corner of the table, brow furrowed in concentration. He had soft curls of brown hair and eyes that held galaxies. With small hands, he sketched mighty beasts and gentle things — great and small — filling page after page with wonder.
God paused, the quill falling still.
His eyes shifted — no longer white, but swirling now with the colors of the universe: emerald greens, sapphire blues, deep amethyst purples, and the rose-gold shimmer of starlight.
Running His fingers through His short, wavy brown hair, He turned toward the child.
“What are you working on, Yahshua?” He asked, voice tender and eternal.
The boy rose, lifting a bundle of papers with both hands, and walked them over with care. God reached out, picked up Yahshua, and set Him gently on His knee. With infinite love, He turned each page — studying every detail, every drawing.
And He smiled. “A most intriguing creature you’ve made,” God said, His voice rich with delight.
He studied the drawing — a four-legged being with piercing blue eyes, pointed ears, and thick, beautiful fur. Every detail was rendered with perfect care — the angles, the texture, the spirit of it.
It was, unmistakably, a husky.
“What a handsome animal,” God continued. “And tell me… what is the purpose of this one?”
He already knew, of course. But He asked because He loved to hear His Son speak — to hear imagination pour from the very soul that shared His essence. The molecules that made them were of the same divine substance — indivisible, eternal.
And yet, God was the Father — the Source, the Creator.
And Yahshua was the most radiant of all His wonders.
He was pure innocent agape – Love made manifest — and from that love, He would become the Way, the Light, the Savior, the Warrior, and the King of Kings.
Yahshua beamed, lifting His chin with pride.
“Well,” He said in His soft, bright voice, “it’ll work really hard… and play really hard too!”
God smiled wide, laughter in His eyes. “I love it.”
He handed the drawing back to the boy, who cradled it with both hands like it was something holy.
The child continued, explaining with great care: “Man will be our best friend… and when they forget they have a best friend — this creature will remind them of You. It’ll be loyal, loving… and help them stay in the present. And sometimes, it judges them,” He said with eyes sparkling mischievously.
God threw His head back and laughed — a deep, golden laugh that echoed through eternity.
Yahshua grinned.
“The species name will reflect Your name, Abba,” He said, looking up at His Father with wide eyes.
God raised a brow, amused. “Its name will be Abba, too?”
Yahshua giggled. “No… Your other name.”
They both laughed — the deep, golden laughter of Father and Son — and turned the pages together.
“I see you’ve added some underwater creatures to your collection,” God observed, His eyes twinkling.
“Yes!” Yahshua said. “One will be the biggest in all the seas! And some of the others will glow — way down in the dark parts. The deepest places!”
God smiled with delight. “Hmm… your imagination has no end.”
With a graceful flick of His wrist, the loose pages rose into the air and arranged themselves, glowing briefly before binding into leather-covered books — each one organized, sealed, and ready for eternity.
He leaned down and kissed Yahshua’s forehead, then gently set him on his feet.
“Now that our work is complete,” He said, “let us make our new home — and all who will dwell within it.”
He looked down at His beloved Son — His pride, His joy, His very essence reflected in celestial flesh. Though Yahshua appeared as a child, glory pulsed within Him. Power flowed through His veins like rivers of light. Even a whisper from His lips could bring life from the void.
But such power came with holy weight — for if Yahshua ever spoke from wrath instead of love, it would birth chaos, not creation; ruin, not radiance.
The boy closed His eyes.
He brought His hands together, bowed His head in a quiet prayer — and then opened them.
From his palms poured light — a luminous river of divine energy. It spilled forth, stretching across the darkness, forming land and sea. Forests bloomed, rivers danced, and the void retreated in awe. Butterflies fluttered into being, flowers opened in praise, and fish leapt into crystalline waters, laughing with silver fins.
God raised the mountains with His hand — waterfalls cascaded down their sides, sending mist into the air. Where water met light, rainbows sprang into being, arching across the sky in splendor.
Upon the highest realm, God built a city — a seat for His eternal council.
There was no temple in that city.
For the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb were its temple.
The city gleamed with the radiance of twelve stones: jasper, sapphire, agate, emerald, onyx, ruby, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, turquoise, jacinth, and amethyst — their colors refracting through eternity.
Its gates were fashioned from single, perfect pearls.
And its streets — purest gold, as transparent as glass.
Once their work was complete, the Father turned to the Son with a radiant smile.
“Now,” He said gently, “let us make the messengers.”
In God’s hand appeared a great book — luminous, ancient, etched with fire. Upon its cover, in sacred script, were the words: השליחים — The Messengers.
God whispered an incantation — a language older than light — and the book fluttered open, its pages glowing as they turned in divine rhythm. With a simple motion of His hand, the pages lifted from the spine and flew outward, aligning themselves in rows before the throne.
Each page ignited, burning with the color of molten brass.
They grew — expanding and shifting — until the flame became form.
And the form became angels.
Between Yahshua and the Father, a white, misty Spirit coalesced — the Holy Spirit — taking shape first as a radiant, translucent dove. It soared gracefully above the newly formed host, and as its wings beat the air, they generated electric light and wind.
Each gust breathed life into the angelic beings.
Eyes opened. Hands flexed. Beings of pure light looked around in wonder — beholding themselves, each other, and the presence of the Triune God.
When the breath of life had reached the final soul, the dove descended and transformed into a translucent man — radiant and flowing like water wrapped in light.
And the three — God, Yahshua, and the Holy Spirit — stood as one before their heavenly host.
God looked over the thousands upon thousands of luminous beings — each one radiant, perfect, and unique.
“Welcome, my sons!” He said, His voice echoing through the realm for all to hear.
“You now stand in My heavenly courts. I will clothe you… teach you… train you in the ways of the Lord. You shall learn My laws, My commandments, and the truth of what was, what is, and what is to come.”
Among the host stood Michael — newly born, yet ancient in spirit. He looked to his left and right, at his brothers — glowing with awe — then back toward the Three who stood before them, crowned in glory.
God lifted His hands.
From the ground, white linen flowed like a river of light. It rose and wrapped itself around each angel, robing them in garments of holiness — radiant and seamless, tailored by grace.
Michael turned — and beheld the vastness of the world that would be their home.
Fields of wildflowers stretched endlessly, blooming in every color that had ever been or would be. Orchards bore fruit unknown to man. Forests rustled with life — beasts gentle and grand among pines and evergreens. Rivers gleamed like silver threads, lakes reflected skies of gold, and rising above them all stood a great mountain…
A mountain crowned with a castle carved into the very stone — the dwelling place of the Most High.
The walls of the great castle shimmered like crystal — alive with shifting colors, brilliant as gemstones bathed in light. They pulsed gently, a symphony of hues that moved like breath. Beneath them, golden walking paths wove through the structure, smooth as polished glass and warm underfoot.
All around, the glowing angels began to shift.
Their light softened — not dimmed in power, but refined into visible form. Facial features emerged like dawn breaking over mist. Expressions. Hair. Eyes. Identity.
Michael glanced around as voices rose — soft, awestruck, joyful. The newly-formed host marveled at their surroundings, speaking to one another with wonder.
Then he looked down.
In his hand was a scroll.
Yahshua’s voice reached him gently. “What you hold is your scroll — inscribed with your name, your gifts, and your role in the kingdom.”
The angels began to unroll theirs. Scrolls unfurled like silk, glowing with golden letters that shimmered and danced across the page.
Michael read his, heart lifting with each word:
Archangel Michael
Second-in-command of the Lord’s angels
Messenger. Protector. Warrior. Guide.
“Michael…” he whispered aloud.
A cheerful voice rang out beside him. “Nice to meet you, Michael!”
He turned.
The angel who stood beside him radiated beauty — hair like threads of pure white, eyes like sharpened sapphires. His features were bold, luminous, and noble.
Michael blinked. “And what is your name?”
The angel’s smile was wide, proud, and full of light.
“Lucifer!”
Their eyes met — two stars born in the same breath.
In the front, God watched them — the first meeting of the two who would one day shape the course of eternity. His gaze, deep with love and foreknowledge, shifted forward to two others who stood near the front.
Fergus and Finnigan.
Fergus was small and wiry, with a long, curling goatee and an impressive handlebar mustache that twisted like silver ribbons. He looked old — yet his eyes sparkled with mischief and wisdom.
Beside Fergus stood his unlikely companion — Finnigan.
Towering above the others, Finnigan was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with muscles that looked chiseled from stone. His head was completely bald, save for a proud, neatly trimmed mustache — not as grand as Fergus’s, but dignified in its own way. Where Fergus was wiry and sharp, Finnigan was solid and quiet — a mountain beside a flame.
Together, they stood out among the host — a peculiar pair surrounded by angels who shimmered with symmetry and grace. Fergus scratched his beard, squinting at the Most High. Finnigan simply folded his arms across his chest, calm as a cliff in a storm.
God and Spirit looked over at Yahshua with an amused smile. Yahshua smiled at them and looked back at his two specially designed angels.