The Apocyphal Remiix The Gospel Of MatatiyahuThe Song of Yeshua
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The return is not the end of time. It is the end of forgetting. When the people remember who they are, when the oppressed remember their power, when the world remembers the language of love, that will be the moment of my full return. And when it happens, there will be no trumpet, no crown, no throne. There will be light filling every soul, truth roaring through every heart, and peace walking the earth like a lion unchained. When I walked among you, I felt the ache of humanity like a pulse in my bones. I saw brothers turn on brothers, priests selling blessings for coins, prophets silenced for s...
The return is not the end of time. It is the end of forgetting. When the people remember who they are, when the oppressed remember their power, when the world remembers the language of love, that will be the moment of my full return. And when it happens, there will be no trumpet, no crown, no throne. There will be light filling every soul, truth roaring through every heart, and peace walking the earth like a lion unchained. When I walked among you, I felt the ache of humanity like a pulse in my bones. I saw brothers turn on brothers, priests selling blessings for coins, prophets silenced for speaking truth. It was a heavy sight, but I did not come to judge. I came to awaken. The Christ consciousness is the fire of remembrance. It is when you realize that divinity is not a crown to wear but a state of being to live in. It is when you understand that heaven is not a place you go when you die, but a vibration you rise into while you live. This is the scroll of Matityahu the one that moves like drumbeats under prophecy. It open with a brief account of life... a voice in the desert Yochanan the baptizer wild and fierce rocking camel skins and with Sacred fire eyes eating honey and locust like sacred snacks. He's out there crying to the people... wash your souls clean ....the King coming through. Water rolled over heads and sins floated away like melted butter...right on down the Jordan like ghosts losing their grip.
