Know Thyself Was the First Commandment

Before there was “Thou shalt not,” there was “Know Thyself.”

That phrase wasn’t born in Greek stone at Delphi; it was carved from Kemetic breath.

In the temples of ancient Kemet—The black lands, what colonizers later called Egypt. The phrase was not just a mantra. It was a mirror. A daily invitation. A sacred commandment written not on tablets, but encoded into the living system of the self.

But which self?

Not the self defined by job titles, trauma, or gender roles. Not the self crafted through filters and forced smiles. Not the one whiteness tried to make us forget.

I’m speaking of the multi-layered, soul-mapped, cosmically linked Self.

The one that speaks in dreams.
The one that vibrates when the truth gets too close.
The one that’s been screaming to be remembered.

“God” does not have a face. That image—the solemn, pale man in the clouds—is a colonizer’s concept.
A projection.
A weapon.
Forged in conquest and used to fracture spirit from source.

It was never our knowing.
Our knowing is vibration. It moves, it returns, it remembers us.

We operate on frequency.
We are frequency.
Just like the stars, just like the trees, just like the waters that remember our prayers.

Not universe—but one-verse.
A unified vibration.

Because Spirit doesn’t scream.
It hums.
It waits.
It offers breadcrumbs in the form of dreams, chills, déjà vu, and glyphs.

Here’s another breadcrumb left behind.
A truth I no longer feel the need to soften:

We have been visited.
We have been taught.
We have been guided by what some call sky people.

This is why our tongues were the first to be silenced.
And why reclaiming our sound is sacred.

We are not spectators of the sky—we are encrypted by it.
The Cosmos is not above us. It’s within us.
Every atom, every echo, every intuition—part of the One-Verse.

To remember this is not just poetic—it’s prophetic.

But to receive the frequency, we must remember.
We must unplug from the programs that taught us to forget.
We must unlearn what was handed to us in conquest.

Because Spirit doesn’t scream.
It hums.
It waits.
It offers breadcrumbs in the form of dreams, chills, déjà vu, and glyphs.

Here’s another breadcrumb left behind.
A truth I no longer feel the need to soften:

We have been visited.
We have been taught.
We have been guided by what some call sky people.

Call them angels.
Call them watchers.
Call them the Anunnaki.
Call them what your blood memory recalls before language was weaponized.

But know this:

We are not the first.
We are not alone.
And we were never meant to forget.

So come walk with me.
Not because I know the way—
but because I’ve started to remember.
And I believe you have too.

Let’s re-member together.
Piece by piece.
Layer by layer.
Soul to soul.

~Soulful Disruptor