In the days when the world was still young, the stories of men were written in the stars, and the breath of the Creator hovered gently over all living things.
Adam, the first of mankind, fashioned in the image of God Himself, grew old in the land he once tilled with his bare hands. He had a son—Seth—a child who carried his likeness, a reflection of the man he was, and a glimpse of what humanity could become.
Adam lived a total of nine hundred and thirty years. Then, like a leaf returning to the soil, he returned to the Creator.
Seth, in his time, became a father too – the father of Enosh. When he was one hundred and five, he held Enosh in his arms. And long after, he watched generations rise and fall, his life spanning over nine centuries before he too closed his eyes.
Enosh gave birth to Kenan, and Kenan to Mahalalel. Each name etched into the unfolding story of humanity, each man living, working, loving, and eventually joining the great silence beyond.
Mahalalel, father of Jared. Jared, father of Enoch.
But Enoch was different.
Unlike others before him, Enoch walked closely with God—not just in faith, but in companionship. For three hundred years, he lived in tune with the divine. Then, one day, he was gone—not dead, not buried—simply taken. The heavens reached down and drew him home.
His son, Methuselah, lived longer than any man—nine hundred and sixty-nine years—his life a symbol of time's vast river.
From Methuselah came Lamech. And Lamech, burdened by the curse upon the land, gave his son a name filled with hope: Noah—"the one who will bring us rest," he said. "He will ease the pain of our toil and heal the earth beneath our feet."
Lamech's life came to its quiet end, and Noah remained—destined for a chapter unlike any before.
When he was five hundred years old, Noah became the father of three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth.
And so, the legacy continued.