Six days passed.

Peter.

James.

John.

One mountain.

No crowd.

They climbed with Jesus

above the roads below.

Then ordinary white disappeared.

Garments blazing

beyond the work of any fuller.

Moses there.

Elias there.

Jesus shining before them.

"It is good for us to be here."

Three tabernacles.

One for each.

Words from a frightened man

trying to give the glory walls.

Then cloud.

Shadow.

Silence.

This is My beloved Son.

Hear Him.

This is My beloved Son.

Hear Him.

They looked again.

No Moses.

No Elias.

Jesus only.

Back down the mountain,

carrying what they could not tell.

Keep it until the Son of Man

has risen from the dead.

They whispered over "rising,"

turning the words among themselves.

Elias had come.

Suffering still waited.

The brightness did not cancel the road.

This is My beloved Son.

Hear Him.

when the mountain burns with light.

Hear Him.

when the road descends.

when glory is easy to see.

when suffering is not.

The cloud was gone.

Jesus remained.