Once upon a time, not so long ago, in the North, lived a tribe of royalty called the Black Moors. Their skin was ever so dark like burnt brass, their hair like wool. They lived and they reigned. They build palaces and castles. They were sophisticated and classy. Everything magnificent described them…
But something terrible happened, something so awful it has never been spoken openly, only in whispers and secrecy was it ever spoken, that the Vikings came and took the source, and behold with it they captured the Black Moors. They took their Crowns, their books, their words, their language, their names, their fashion, they took everything, and made the Moors their servants.
It was something so terrible to hear or behold, and was only ever to be sung in mysteries. A law was decreed throughout the North, that no longer shall the Black Moors be remembered as Kings, but their history shall be that of servants. So Cold Play said it in the Black A Moor song, oh after they were made to be servants, and sweep the floors they used to own…
I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning, I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
But how did they get the source, one may ask…
Well, in a far away fallen Animal Kingdom, where animals are gods, a Princess was born. She was lost in this Kingdom, and was always looking to go back home, to where she truly belonged. By day she was one way, by night another…
She was born with the power of the pen, the source, and the old witch used it. But she knew that only a true love’s first kiss would give her her powers back. She needed a real prince, a Black A Moor Prince…
Thousands of years passed, and behold in the North, Mary-Tamar was speaking to her husband…
“Baby, please take the robe off, Shumalite will iron it…”
It was just a white cloth rather, but the King ever so stubborn snapped at his wife…
“No it shouldn’t be ironed, this is the look, I creased it especially…
“Why?” Mary-Tamar asked him. She knew her husband always strived on looking different and eccentric, but this was stretching it too far…
“Because we are going back to innocence…the look is white creases, like your Victorian gown…we are taking back what’s rightfully ours, even our creases…and that is the look for everyone…I told you never to iron your white gown…its for sleeping in, that’s the look. “
Mary-Tamar knew her husband had made a name and a career for himself by making people look a certain way, he was a PR Consultant. So when it come to that, she trusted him…
“Okay, my King, white creases it is.” She kissed her husband…
So Mary-Tamar gathered her 7 children, from the youngest to the oldest, there were all running around house, excited for their Daddy…
“The King is getting anointed! The King is getting anointed! Is he going to wear the Crown Mum?” The girls were jumping on the bed…
“Get off the bed! You have to get dressed otherwise there will be no anointing today, or Crown…”
30 minutes later, everyone was all dressed up perfectly in white creases, sitting in the front room of the Northern Palace…
“What happened?” Little Chaka asked, he was only 2, so it was his own way of saying, “Whats happening,” as he could see this was no ordinary day, his Daddy was in a white robe…or rather a creased white cloth…there were seven candles burning and everybody was seating in anticipation, including Aunty and Uncle whom he hardly saw…And his mummy was so busy and serious with bottles of oils and books, sitting on her favorite spot, the bay window. Shulamite kept telling him to be still and quite and sit perfectly on her lap…
“It’s the return of the Black A Moor.” The King answered, looking at his 2 year old son, the Crown Prince, “In white creases” he added, looking at his wife with a cheeky smile…
And with that, the anointing ceremony begun in the presence of the witnesses…
The Genesis Of The Revelation By
Mary-Tamar was Jean
jeangasho.com 