Every revelation has a turning point — a moment when all eyes shift to the place where truth is rising.

The first sign that the rising had become undeniable was not in the sky — it was in the faces below. One by one, then all at once, the crowd began to lift their heads. The shift was subtle at first: a pause in their chanting, a slowing in their breath, a narrowing of their eyes as they searched for the source of the new energy in the air.

Their attention drifted away from the familiar figure at the center — the leader they had come to see — and settled upward, toward the quiet elevation taking place just beyond their usual field of vision. No one commanded them to look. Their spirits simply recognized that something greater was unfolding.

Some faces lifted with curiosity, others with awe, others with a kind of spiritual instinct that said, “Look up — this is the moment you were not expecting.” Children tugged on their parents’ clothes. Older people tilted their heads with a slowness that carried both wisdom and shock.

As my body rose, I could see them clearly — the widening eyes, the parted lips, the dawning realization. Their expressions shifted from confusion to recognition. The energy that had lifted me was now reshaping the entire atmosphere among those who watched.

At that height, I felt no pride and no fear. I felt only the weight of being seen — not in the sense of being admired, but in the sense of purpose being revealed. Their lifted faces were not looking at me alone; they were looking at what was choosing to lift me.

The sky had already claimed me. Now the witnesses were seeing the claim.