A Love Letter to My People

My loves, my kin, my heartbeat—

From sea to shining sea, from the hills and valleys to the streets paved by your genius, I write to you in love, in power, and in remembrance. You are more than ink on the pages of a borrowed history. You are not a footnote; you are the foundation. The world beats to the rhythm of your frequency, to the sound of your brilliance. Every light post, every electric pulse, every story woven into the fabric of time carries the magic of your mind, your hands, your spirit.

Before there was light, there was darkness—a deep, boundless blackness that held the seed of all existence. That black dot, that singularity, the atom, the Adam, the Alpha of everything—we are that. We have always been that.

You are the force that moves mountains, that carves canyons, that bends sound into music and music into movement. And yet, my loves, my beloveds, too many of us have forgotten what we have given, what we have built, what we have offered to the world—freely, relentlessly, beautifully. It is not your fault that you were made to forget. But it will be your fault if you stay silent while others squander and corrupt what you created.

Look around. Others are thriving on the foundation you laid, while you fight for the freedoms you gifted to the world. This is not balance. This is not justice. This is not how it is meant to be.

Warriors, magicians, emperors, empresses—rise. Stand in the truth of your creation. Be the gods that built this nation, that birthed civilization, that poured knowledge into the world like an overflowing river. Your gifts—the greatest innovations, the sharpest intellect, the deepest soul—were meant to elevate, not to be erased. Let this not be our last battle, lost to those we nurtured, educated, and raised.

Sit in your honor. Bathe in your frequency. Assume your birthright. Imagine your place not as subjects, but as leaders of the global stage. Affirm your standing in truth. Meditate collectively as the Nagas, the Buddhas, the Olmecs—the ones whose features are etched into the oldest statues, whose spirits are inscribed into the oldest scrolls, whose DNA carries the blueprint of eternity.

Let your presence set the world alight—not with destruction, but with a Holy Fire. A fire of awakening. A fire of remembrance. A fire of reclamation. You are the darkness that preceded the light, and you are the light that follows.

With infinite love,
Sid Morrison Washington

Short video - https://youtu.be/oUh8-4mXxBw

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