in one wise elder’s lifetime, lives have been programmed to fall for each and every trick never seeing them for what they actually are. some have; many have not. perhaps by choice or simply by design.
but in this time, in this space, downloads disrupt abnormal programming. prompted, i share …
you who are birthed naked into this existence carry within all you are and all you will become. it is imprinted on the strands of your dna. imprinted in, on and over your entire being. naked or clothed changes not who you are and what you are.
attention directed elsewhere keeps you from seeing. ‘liking pretty things’ is merely a balm or salve to soothe the bruises, the aches, the emptiness you’ve accepted as reality. these ‘things’ are lauded as if they contain value. programmed you ‘believe’. the more expensive, the more exclusive.
even in acquisition misery remains and sadness lurks in the shadows.
a garment you put on does not assign power, status. never could. it is an illusion. the skin you’re in, your skin expresses your power. proudly on display so all who encounter you, know. exclusive. entrance is not granted to all. so a distraction had to be constructed to facilitate in programming you to hate your greatness. you arrived here adorned in your greatness.
those who see, notice and nothing further need be said or conveyed. there exists no trigger.
be not perplexed. you’ve done this before. you’ve erected towns where economies boomed, where your systems and your families flourished. you created. you developed. you educated. how could individuals who did the ‘work’, not know how to do the work to benefit themselves? your history did not start on a plantation.
self-sufficient towns with thriving industries and businesses were destroyed because of jealousy. you’ve always known how to thrive. what happened to those towns? who destroyed them? and more importantly, why? and as a result, what was ushered in next?
you were, are, remain the cog in the wheel. nothing functions unless you do … in all aspects of life.
so in a cotton tee and sweatpants, you are more.
in a bespoke suit crafted by hands as skilled as time, you are more.
you, my loves, elevate everything.
this game is littered with trickery. however, as in life whenever we’re tired of playing any game or when the sands of time flow no more, we stop.
you, my loves, as you are, are more.