Planet Ahavah

THE FIRST WORLD AND THE BIRTH OF THE CREATOR

Before stars learned to burn, before time learned to count itself, there existed a world that did not orbit light. Planet Ahavah was the first planet to ever exist—older than the universes, older than law, older than order itself. Its origin remains unknown even to the highest records of the Twenty-Four Elders. It did not emerge from a star, nor was it shaped by decree. It simply appeared in the deepest, darkest region of existence known as Mother Space.

Mother Space is not emptiness. It is the womb of all that would ever be. And within that immeasurable darkness, Ahavah stood alone—silent, spherical, and complete.

Planet Ahavah possessed no sun and no moon. Its sky was a deep, dark grey, heavy with stored light rather than illumination. Its seas were calm and stable, capable of sustaining life without tide or storm. The soil was multicoloured, though white sands dominated its surface, reflecting purity not yet tested. Life on Ahavah did not depend on celestial bodies. Instead, the planet produced its own rhythm.

That rhythm came from the Fire Trees.

These towering living structures were the planet’s source of light and time. Each fire tree possessed forty-five height levels, each level representing one hour. As time passed, the trees burned downward slowly, illuminating the world until they sank fully into the ground at the end of the day. When darkness followed, the sky itself—having stored light during the day—began to glow faintly, providing a soft illumination like moonlight. In the places where fire trees sank, green plants rose, growing for forty-five hours until they became the next generation of fire trees.

Thus, a single day on Ahavah lasted ninety hours.

Time itself was alive.

Weeks, months, and years were not marked by clocks but by light. Red lights signaled the end of cycles; pure white lights marked the passing of years. At the center of the planet stood the Mother Tree, the first to grow and the last to sink, towering above all others—silent, ancient, and guarded by unseen law.

It was on this planet, in the heart of white lands, that Yeshua was born.

From a rising heap of white sand, formed over fourteen days, emerged a naked young man—flesh and blood, fully human in appearance, yet unlike any human to come. He named himself Yeshua. He had no phallus. He laughed freely, learned the world with joy, and loved the planet that gave him life.

After six million years, Yeshua named the world itself.

“I name you: Ahavah.”

Love.

Yeshua lived in harmony with the planet. He ate fruit that became light within him. He sang songs that shaped joy into sound. He built his first house from white mud, unknowingly cursing it by desiring something greater. That curse was not destruction—it was growth. Light answered his longing. His simple house transformed into a magnificent structure not built by hands but by response.

Yet Ahavah was not merely a paradise. It was a teacher.

Through pain, hungerlessness, strength, and regret, Yeshua learned consequence. When rage drove him to attack the Mother Tree—the heart of the planet—Ahavah resisted him. When he pierced its trunk and sought its destruction, fire answered. Water refused to obey him. Boundaries revealed themselves.

And then came the moment that changed existence forever.

In despair and fury, believing he could not live while the Mother Tree lived, Yeshua tore out his own heart.

Darkness fell.
For three days, Ahavah lay silent.

Then the planet itself transformed.

Fire erupted. Rivers rose. The sky folded. Ahavah compressed inward, collapsing its planetary form until it became a star-like light at the center of Mother Space. From that light emerged a being—radiant, human in form, crowned in glory.

Ahavah had become The Creator.

The planet Ahavah did not merely die—it evolved. It became a living divine being, bearing the exact appearance and voice of Yeshua. In that transformation, Yeshua did not cease to exist; he became one with Ahavah, dwelling within Him.

Yet Ahavah was incomplete.
He wept.
“My Son… I want to see your face.”

From that grief emerged the entire divine plan of creation. The universes, the Elders, the Archangels, Shamayim, law, order, rebellion, salvation—all of it exists because Planet Ahavah gave birth to Yeshua, and Yeshua was lost within Ahavah.

The Three Crowns—Will, Love, and Order—manifested during this moment, defining the structure of all that followed. Ahavah weakened Himself deliberately so creation could survive His presence. He chose the long path: Yeshua would be reborn, suffer, die, rise again, and finally return so that Ahavah could be whole without destroying existence.

Thus, Planet Ahavah is not merely the first world.

It is the origin of love, loss, and redemption.

Every realm traces back to it.
Every law exists because of it.
Every hope lives because Ahavah once loved a planet—and lost His Son there.

And when Yeshua finally wields the Three Crowns and all wills align with His, the echo of Planet Ahavah will be felt again.

Not as a world.

But as completion.