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Stop Staring at the Finger—The Stars Belong to Us

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Stop Staring at the Finger—The Stars Belong to Us Listen to this Episode Let’s stop playing small, Tribe. Look around. A lot of us are exhausted, running on empty, trapped in a cycle of being mad at the system, sad about the state of our blocks, and scared of what’s coming next. We think we're doing the work because our calendars are packed, our digital planners are color-coded, and we’re checking off boxes on our daily hustle. But here is the hard truth we have to face today: You are mistaking the instrument for the destination. The Sukuma people of Tanzania dropped a profound mirror in front of our faces: "I pointed out the stars and moon to you, but all you saw was the tip of my finger." Every daily routine, every martial arts stance, every clean meal, and every self-mastery tool laid out in the Player’s Pyramid isn't the final victory. They are just fingers pointing to the sky. The real goal? Absolute spiritual sovereignty and the complete elevation of our nation...
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Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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