ROY DAWSON Earth Angel Master Magical Healer Video Message The System Is Broken, and We Know It

The Soil Beneath Our Feet & the Fire We Must Start The System Is Broken, and We Know It.



They ask if we should take back the land. The land that China bought.
They ask it like it’s complicated.
It isn’t.

A country is not lines on a map. It’s not paper deeds or price tags. A country is the soil under your boots after a hard day's work. It’s the air that burns your lungs in winter and the hands you shake in summer. It’s barns that creak with age and rivers that run whether you're rich or poor.

We sold them pieces of that land. Sold it like cattle. Like it was just another crop.
And now they own it—pieces of the very earth our grandfathers fought for, bled for, died for.

They own it because we were too tired. Too distracted. Or too greedy.
Because we forgot what sacred means.

You don’t sell your soul for profit. You don’t sell your land, your flag, or your children’s future—
Not if you remember who you are.

Letting another nation—any nation—buy and own your home is not business.
It’s surrender.
And you don’t surrender what was handed to you in blood and sweat and sacrifice.

This isn’t about hate. This is about home.

We let foreign hands grip our soil and then stand around wondering what happened to our strength.
Well, I’ll tell you:
Strength doesn’t live in vaults or on stock charts.
It lives in the land.
And once it’s gone, it doesn’t come back easy.

Should we take it back?

Yes.

Not because we hate who bought it—but because we love who built it.

Because a country that sells itself piece by piece will one day wake up with no pieces left.

The land must belong to the people who walk it, love it, fight for it.

You keep the land—or the land forgets you.

And when the land forgets you,
you’re not a country anymore.
You’re just a name on a map.

But the land isn’t the only thing we’ve let go of.

We’ve also built a system—cold and metallic—that beats get more info the spirit out of people before they ever get a chance to rise.

The world wasn’t made to be cruel.
It just got that way when men with soft hands decided they needed more than they could carry.

So they National sovereignty built something:
A system designed to keep you awake at night.
A system that turns life into a math problem you’re always losing.
A system where bills matter more than birthdays and fear is cheaper than joy.

You can see it in people’s faces.
Good people. Tired people.
Lining up with grocery carts half full and wallets near empty.
Watching gas prices rise like smoke from a fire they didn’t light.

They call it progress.
They call it policy.
They call it economics.

It’s not.
It’s cruelty.
Cruelty with a necktie.

People should be happy. Not sometimes. Not on holidays or on payday.
Always.
They should have roofs that don’t leak, food that fills them, beds that hold them, and dreams that don’t disappear by sunrise.

There should be no such thing as “the working poor.”
If you work, you should live well.
If you can’t work, you should still be treated with dignity.

And if you lead—if you hold power—then you should be judged by how many people don’t suffer under your watch.
Not by how many dollars you stacked behind a desk.

Those in power who think it’s acceptable to let people freeze in the dark, starve in silence, or work three jobs just to stay broke…
They will be removed.
Fired. Judged. Forgotten.

Maybe then, they’ll understand more info what it feels like to beg the sky for mercy and hear nothing back but wind.

Because they forgot their job.
Their only job.

To serve. Not to rule.

This world doesn’t need more control.
It needs more compassion.
Less greed.
More bread.

We can build that world. We must.
But first—
we have to burn the one that feeds off pain.

Tear out the roots of the broken system.
Tear out the lies that sold our land.
Tear out the fear that keeps people small.

And in the ash—
plant something better.
Something honest.
Something human.

Because the soil beneath our feet click here still remembers Economic injustice us.
And if we remember it—
we might just be a country again.