Astral Arcadia 🖤

Smoke and mirrors unbalance the truth of a detrimental soul        
Cleansing of the intellect is the rebirth as the Sun is to the Rose        
What fables can blind men speak        
When questioning the presence of his purpose, yet dead minded to give hope in the deliverance of his speech        
Trying to ignite the spark of conceivable notions when the heart is leaking and not at peace        
His eyes cannot exalt beyond Mt. Zion peaks        
Where is your Holy Oil for the lost wandering sheep        
Give universal rest for the mental weariness and spiritually weak        
The promise to the afterlife in the chastisement of the meek        
        
Lineage of Gods do not twist the time of His creation        
Man, woman, child the divine unity is found in the agility of benediction to the constellations        
Lessening the mind when the truth is in plain view        
Death and destruction seem to be the passage you seek to mentally abuse, physically misuse        
      
Propaganda floating on the crest of life in droves of waves        
Within the Grand Canyon the history of my lineage is scrawled on the walls of those caves        
The echoing cries are hollowing on the wind        
Upon the treetops that swayed, unto the neck broken, upon the bend        
Signs of the times to christen unto a new origin        
      
To pardon the democracy of Heaven and Hell, as blood still seeps in burial ground          
Forebode and ancestry speaks shh... you can hear the bemoans if you do not make a sound          
Native land, footsteps branded on the soil by the Moorish man          
You give the world a book of fables, with incest, murder, fornication, and adultery, and you ask to hold my hand          
When the Constitution of our forefathers refuse to acknowledge blood still seeps from the vast land          
Where sacred chants from the soil your ancestors stole          
        
Diabolic echoes you may tell a makeshift altar, built upon hollow sticks, and casted stones          
Genocide, pilgrimage, ethnic cleaning the stars, the moon, can never atone        
Stay focused you are your own shining stars    
It makes you thinketh therefore you are    
 
Never lose your sense of direction, your pilgrimage in the eyes of a Godless race  
Faith have been misplaced  
Looking into Hell to dine on depravity’s wicked words      
I am the Dove who seeks new land for a Moorish King’s intellect to unfurl  
When chaos enters your frame of mind, fate cannot be measured, destiny will not be met at best
        
The Revelations of whips and chains are clamoring from the mountaintop          
Aren’t we all waiting for the great tribulations, as eyes look up for glory, knees to the terrain we will drop          
Natural disasters upon the shores the beginning of trepidation          
I am not the martyr that you should never fear, my dear          
My frontier is sky miles in the remnants of fallen tears          
      
Of man, when he walked in unity dark feet casted and brassed        
The pilgrimage of my Eastern Star has come moons have passed        
And you question the validity of my faith, which will always outlast        
I cannot teach the heart what should be there by the resurrected nature of spiritual designs        
Mystical incantations to reach the sublime        
      
The pyre of laminates will never be found in the validation, or could you ever overstand my mission of deliverance from within the delusion of time        
You may try, but the Holy Oil, gifted from the Holy Grail is the bone marrow of my sublimes        
Words of yesterday, I do not exist        
A celestial sacred version that has traveled to the seconds, upon moments of a soft reminisce        
Light your Olibanum, inhale, exhale, close your eyes, and say an Arabic prayer        
Open the portal of your mind beyond the dark parchments of the Freemasons, the Illuminati and the earthly Naysayers        
      
Take off thy shoes, for your judgment is upon Holy Ground        
I console upon my depth, as I sit in, “Halls of Amenti”, truth found in its peace, my only divine harkening sound        
The stigmata from my hands to give        
My feet to traveling with wisdoms and knowledge from His blood, I am the sanctification for you to choose how you to live      
Piercing you with my truth with the finality  
Let the blood and water flow, as the Roman Lance of Longinus into the Begotten Son, had did  
      
To the hearts that are heavy        
Their minds inclined in bitterness, that is the dam that breaks civilizations' levies        
Let the reign cometh in the mourning where eyes shall look up of its descending glory        
I am who I am        
A timeless spirit in the vessel, I stand to give reprisal to child, woman, and man of the deep and of the wild        
Cognitive awareness by divine perceptions as an Indigo Child        
The flowers of the winds, the Lotus flower, a beautiful adoration as it thrives upon its throne within the sanctuary of a muddy waterbed in its darkest hour        
      
You may name me, if that gives your worth a sense of peace  
In the absence of wisdom and knowledge your mind refuses to reach        
You may riddle my existence to the powers that be        
I am from the highest oracle that time or mortals must decipher in the state of negativity’s reprieve        
I bear my invocations in the name of my Divine Creator, and I humbly bow to the incantations professed by the spiritual offerings by Him       
The shield in the feast of His honor, in my anointment to Earthy Canis, and the castaways Jinn’s    
 
 
“In the name of my Heavenly Father”  
 
The Sacred Orator  
    
      
And the last my lover dipped his long ship in my wet abyss, mm… au natural... get a life and discontinue making mine about yours, up your mentality…if you women on DUP have to reduce my homage, my lineage in order to ‘attempt to raise your low standards’ than you are still at the beginning trying to find your purpose or your place in this beautiful universe  
 
I do not understand, I am from Dominican Republican what woman, worries about another woman’s pedigree, her lifestyle, her creed, her creativity, is that not considered jealous or envy. You ladies seem to seek me out with insults, multiple profiles just to come after this Nubian Queen in the name of what, because, you cannot articulate the gift of mine, I am no Rosewood, or Black Wall Street, meaning, you cannot tear down what is not broken, and I am not standing in anyone’s wicked line to be repaired or altered. I stand on the principles of my faith, and my spiritual beliefs, yet, I am here, to heal, to flirt, and to connect. Tell me ladies, and yes even some misguided men, are you not happy within your own life.    
 
I have myself, I love, myself, and as a professional French Creole Haitian Entrepreneur female, allow my intellectual waters to always saturate that beautiful intellect one day at a time, and if I cannot, then keep your negative thoughts, your vile insinuations, or untruths to self, it plays no significant here, other to making you feel good due in part you cannot elevate, I suppose.