Dream Weaver (I Am-COTS)

Unto the darkness our beams of light shine                      
To asunder of this world our universal hosts travel by the speed of light through time                      
We are the enlighten bearers of Sumerian pantheons who walked among earth to give beings our intellect, the supercilious' genes of our worth                  
Searching for the minerals that gave our decaying race its rebirth                      
Man in the image seen and courted of low vibrations.                      
Unto us as the time of reminisce on their knees in a lost celebration                      
                      
To wear the crown of creation upon the scalp that navigates the intellectual thoughts of a man's head                     
His wisdom, his knowledge, to make generations open unto her fertile divinity once she lays upon his sacred bed                      
Unto words do not allow thy blind eyes to fall into the midst of not knowing who you are through the labyrinth of false tricks            
Throwing stones, hatred upon broken sticks          
You are the portal of righteous, not the host of their offspring’s, the Nephilim's, Reptilians, the Giants and Satanic Jezebels, fates who lack the mystics of spiritual gifts                      
You, my Hebrew Gods and divine Goddesses walked among Heaven unto your glories light                      
The sanctuary where the ancient Gods of old took righteous souls in His wings in flight                      
                      
Using the telekinetic energies, you have in need of humanity’s despair                      
The reverence of your powers when you grasp intelligence from the dust of the air                      
The Pineal Gland bestowed unto you                      
The message receptors to grant you spiritual food                      
Minus of the inoculated equations of others                      
Depressive existence of the mind when in their lowest vibrations, adrenaline, norepinephrine, and cortisol comforts their psyche when hovering                      
Bow to the properties found in the consecration of that melanin aspirations                                     
Not pronounced in its beautiful bond of its sacred augmentations                      
Understand the old dialect found in our West African sublime                      
The twisted tongue of the serpents has casted you from the warmth of the Sun in his own warped demise                      
Hold on and practice faith of merit to taste the fruit of your labor ripen for you to pick of the Creator’s blessed vines                      
Our earthly Guardians of the Gallic tongue will manifest my words, the extension of my exalted soul                      
The first to bow unto man as she created, to give him strength through generations as his mind patrols              
We are one and unto the origin we shall return                      
False tongues of faith in malice are the Devil’s hindrance when he is due in the second reckoning to be burned                      
Go in peace my brethren, in the creation of our crossroads, we are the rebirth of the Lance of Longinus fifth pierce of Christ, the begotten one                  
We are the twelve tribes of Judah, darken hued, braised under the descendants of the Son/Sun                    
Naturally governs the natural flow of ethos, pathos, logos to comprehend                      
Delve into the archaic temple of a woman's soul you shall find the purpose of man                                   
The Light Bearers, we will never bow or give the credence of our grace to the Jackal with his two tongues, the false man of non-divine energy                  
You may spew upon your letters to the air, where your own eyes will never discern to believe                  
In these times, one has to always be AWOKEN, where the good and the bad will always clash, with bitter lashes                  
Unto the 33rd degrees of the realm of time, I am truth, and I do not listen with ears to see if I appease the masses                  
The pitchfork, and fire, will only converge on thyself upon its earthly dashes                  
We, as the chosen ones, mission, I will come to teach in the name of peace                  
In the midst of war, blood shall be spilled to give the water the depth of Mother Nature's wraith                  
Close your eyes and listen to the slave ships of my ancestors begging just to be, to walk in their own spiritual path                  
And you worry about words from someone who you will never find looking up to you from my knees                  
And that is the truth without a thank you or a please                                
The Native American your forefathers raped and have taken blessings from sacred lands                  
Stripped the rite of passage to a child to learn in the times of segregation, a woman to birth, and a man to labor in those cotton fields from sunrise to sundown by his sore hands               
So, spare me the malevolent chaos, when the elements upon your mind the democracy of your old lineage ringing with diabolical sins                 
I am not the prophetess who invite all souls in                  
Then again                  
                
Sing the spiritual warriors’ ears a new song                  
Do not give us the foundation of the detrimental man’s lynching, where he has never atoned                  
Hateful hands placing darken bodies upon trees to sway in the wind all night long                  
Never once realizing why your generation children is suicidal, death merchant’s, polluted minds filled with mood stabilizer medications, when their just too far gone, you better read those spiritual Lost Books that never made it to the inquisitive eyes                  
And not that turn the other cheek book of fables, the one you place your hand upon, the one given in slavery, to the awoken, those pages are filled with incest, rape, fornication, and lies                           
Filled with contempt to divide all nations                  
Yet the cross of man, burns upon white sheets, the reprimands of slaughter, discontent, a pilgrimage of slaves lead into derogation                  
Times have not changed what still remains the same                  
Still have the stench of slave masters' last names                  
And you want me to hide the velour of words because you cannot see the forest past your remembrance, if you research your history, it is filled with distain, and pain                  
I am the Heaven's whisperer and at times I bring the acid rain                  
           
Other than a different time, yet the word ‘Boy’ still labels the black man, profiled for the greatness of his skin                  
The Moorish race, the melanin DNA is where life truly begins                  
The veil of your forefather’s shame will never become the utopia of my wasted dreams, my aspirations to uplift                  
If you can feel my words in its truthful deliverance, then your soul will always softly float on its drift                  
If not, as Yeshua already suffered unto the welts for the blessed inscription upon my sacred scrolls to always, soothe with tenderness or lash upon reality with the sting of its inflict                  
                
                
“Assalamu Alaikum”            
           
           
           
#ChildrenOfThe Sun            
#CelebratingBlackHeritageMonth