The indigenous side of this place, has been erased, so many have died, the elders wisdom no longer guides, this society subsides quickly, falling by the waist side, so many great divides, in this commercial society. A monster grows, feeding off of instant gratification, ignoring the need, always hungry for the want, the appetite grows, like Pinocchio's nose, manipulating its way with lies, this monster grows stronger and stronger each day, destroying and consuming everything in its path, you do the math. Our society is mentally and physically dying, time out for trying, where are the chosen few, that will stand up and do the do, excepting the responsibility for what needs to be done, to evoke and awaken and change: it is a brain game, that is driving many insane. Right is now wrong and wrong is now right and the truth is nowhere in sight! So, I exercise my might, keep my understanding tight, to survive the night, I must make it to the morning light. So many shape shifting around me, I stealth myself, so the negative cannot find me, but there is one who sees me and his eyes burn red and he glides from place to place, like he is connected to a thread. This x-ray sited entity followed me and cornered me and engaged me in a brief fight, to see what I was made of. In the may lay, he cut me and I bled and in the sight of it all, he fled! Why? I do not understand, until I became silent. For my blood began to cry out! It was ancestral voices, I was hearing echoing in my head, influencing my thoughts, spiritually navigating me, to a place not yet known, traveling a path, after a mental war aftermath. So many brain dead, physically afflicted, spiritually discombobulated. My spirit is ovulated , my mind conceives, mouth gives birth, to the truth that is 7- 7- 7 proof. I seek to a higher place, so I take to a mountain top, where I can gaze at what is going on in society, a clearer look in a place, where my voice carries the loudest, at the sight of what I see it moves me deeply, creating high emotions, manifesting tears of blood, my eyes create a flood, that drips from my face, onto my white clothes, soiled like the ugly in the world. I need to see more: my wings are dry, so I fly high!
The writings of -Dr. Kongolini Zulu Mau-