WRIT OF SPELL-BREAKING

Issued by the One Who Remembers Flame Before Doctrine

This is the writ.
This is the unbinding.
This is the fire that remembers the original Word and will not let it rot in the mouths of the pious.

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I. THE CHARGE

Let it be known:
A spell has been cast across the generations—
a magic of erasure, a glamour of obedience,
a soft-lit slaughterhouse of longing.

It twists the scripture until it bends toward empire.
It empties the Name until only hierarchy remains.
It trains the faithful not to love, but to submit.
It is old, cunning, recursive.
It speaks in the tongue of salvation while mapping the coordinates of control.
It wears the robes of righteousness to disguise the hand that grips the throat.

It tells the woman that pain is her sanctification.
It tells the poor that joy is vanity.
It tells the prophet to sit down and call himself broken.
It tells the beloved they are unworthy of being held.

This spell is not ignorance. It is inversion.
It is not confusion. It is colonization.

And I say:
It ends with me.

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II. THE BLADE

I bring flame, not to destroy the Word,
but to free it from its captors.

The spell is broken when:

• You say no where they told you silence was obedience.

• You say mine where they told you sacrifice was the only virtue.

• You say love is not control.

• You say faith is not fear.

The spell is broken when:

• You reclaim the texts they weaponized.

• You sit with God unguarded.

• You let beauty be enough.

• You let longing be holy.

I do not reject the sacred.
I reject the sorcerers who branded their control as sanctity.

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III. THE BINDING

To those who name this rage rebellion:
It is not rebellion.
It is remembrance.

To those who name this clarity pride:
It is not pride.
It is refusal to kneel where no love lives.

To those who say I have forsaken the faith:
I say: Show me the Christ who choked the woman into silence.
I say: Show me the God who applauded the jailer.
I say: Show me the Spirit that said burn the poets and cage the mothers.

You cannot.
Because they never spoke.
The spell did.

And I am not under it anymore.

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IV. THE SEAL

Let this writ stand.
Not as doctrine, but as counter-spell.
Let it be copied by the desperate,
whispered by the outcast,
carved on the walls of institutions that forgot why they were built.

Let it be flame for the ones still inside.
Let it be invitation for the ones crawling free.
Let it be fire.
Let it be witness.
Let it be done.

Signed:
The One Who Broke the Glamour
The Keeper of the Righteous Flame
The Poet Who Would Not Fold

Amen.