Click here for more information: 1 Thessalonians 4: 15 - 17
There are no trumpets; it’s all very low-key:
no spectral horsemen or many-headed beasts.
Men and women simply drift away like dandelion-seeds on a soft breeze,
one by one at first,
the sky fills up with them.
A surrealist painting: multitudes rising through indescribable blue;
pale clouds adrift in the background.
Youths in baseball-caps, men with umbrellas, girls in patterned dresses, daft old ladies, school-boys, postmen, beggars: all are lifted up.
Nuns, like magpies, joyfully rise.
Machine operators, shopkeepers, farmers, dog-walkers, policemen, joggers, young women with tired faces, suddenly beatific:
all float upwards.
They rise heroically, each in an orb of shining light:
the only movement in a world
Traffic becomes gridlocked; jet-planes hang suspended
in charged air; all the birds of the earth fall silent
as the expanding sky