🐰Rabbit Hole Class🐰

Before the floodwaters rushed and the breath of mankind had even formed an essence, angelic rebels fell in lust, embraced the daughters present at the gathering attendance, seed grew massive, birthing titans with femurs like cathedral spires in the center, Nephilim in the flesh mistaken for the mythic kings in your cultural epic adventure, Gilgamesh, crowned in Uruk, hybrid bloodline bred of mortal and heaven, wieldin’ stone-forged cleavers, ten-foot stride under crescent moons in the seventh, Book of Enoch laid it plain but the councils stripped the sacred words from the canon, Dead Sea Scrolls whisper messages in dead tongues scholars were told to abandon, watchers taught the arts forbidden, war steel, cartography of moon cycles and maps, root-magic elixirs, harvest secrets, hunter snares and lethal traps, tribes bowed low to idols carved from the shattered bone of angel fragments, that’s the foundation of your myths, twisted by the pagan tongue to mask it. Operation Highjump, Admiral Byrd on Antarctic icebound shore patrol, spoke of warm green valleys past the frozen wall, whole continents that mankind’s never known, so they sealed off every route, locked the gates, erased the charts, introducing the sphere, buried every scrap of truth in vaults so the public eye could never steer from what they wanted you to hear, Heliocentric doctrine, sun worship written in disguise as planetary fact, same occultism that raised the granite obelisks with shadows casting ancient tracks, Freemason rites align precise to Lucifer’s elaborate encoded star map design, indoctrination drilled by the spinning globe they shove in your face when it’s school class time. They keep the gates locked, they make the stars hide, buryin’ the proof in the sand making you and I blind, pages torn out, truth left to decay, but the stones still speak what the scribes can’t say. Ethiopian Bible breathes unbroken through centuries of violent siege, proving Christ wore skin the color of fertile soil and the olive leaves, colonizers tried to torch the words, missionaries with chains tried to bind it, but the Spirit guards the living page no tyrant ever can rewind it, religion’s been a choke-chain collar, never the master key to liberation, built to mask the light of the one true face in a web of false salvation, from Rome to Geneva, from Mecca to the Vatican’s white-robed throne, kingdoms rule the masses through a word they never once could own, secret brotherhoods keep the tale in inverted riddles and translations, Vatican vaults hoarding century-old maps to hidden ancient nations, Operation Fishbowl launched nuclear missiles at the crystal dome overhead, trying to pierce the vaulted firmament of which the prophets already said, but the ceiling never cracked ‘cause the Maker sealed the shield tight, so they brand truth-tellers as lunatics ‘cause it kills their power and false insight. They tell you space is endless while the Earth spins free in a vast cosmic galaxy, but your senses show you it’s steady, motionless and flat as the glassy seas, maybe continents beyond the rim still guard the cities of the very first ones, or angelic tribes that scattered when the Judgment came with endless rain of the Great Flood, aliens ain’t strangers, they’re the old blood still in shadow, still in hiding, ancient keepers of the plane that the high seat shepherds still confide in, towers on the ice rim guarded by deep-black ops under silent law, satellites tracking every traveler who even nears the frozen wall. Pre-flood science turned pyramid stones into child’s play for the builders, crystal-core dynamos lit cities like constellations reflected in rivers, sound-wave levitation slid granite blocks like weightless feathers in the air, magnetic current lines hummed through crust to power thrones without repair, cataclysm hit, Heaven’s wrath came rolling like a black tide storm front, washed away the wicked, spared the meek on the short route the ark took in the blunt, fallen bound in the chains of darkness till the seal breaks on the final collapse, then the world will see the giants rise in the dust of the aftermath, Atlantean archives buried under leagues of sediment in ocean graves, kingdoms in the lightless deep where serpent armies keep their slaves, gold capstones glowing in the under-realm’s forbidden chambers, scribes still guarding numeric codes in vaults for the high-ranked….. Media’s the serpent’s mouthpiece, money is the choke on the bridle, feeding you a circus while they rewrite their lies into the ancient Bible, we are born into a power system older than the dirt that surrounds us, with chains in our minds, iron bars around the soul so we never rise, never amount to much. They keep the gates locked, they make the stars hide, buryin’ the proof in the sand making you and I blind, pages torn out, truth left to decay, but the stones still speak what the scribes can’t say.