Antenna Signal

They mapped the leylines before our first breath.
Stone teeth buried at every node — Giza, Bosnia, the sea floor off Yonaguni.
You think they are tombs?
No. They are antennae.
And we are the signal.

At thirty degrees the quartz awakens
Phase array beneath the sand
Not for pharaohs – for the wardens
Invisible, second band
They feed on action potentials
Synaptic flicker in the skull
We call it prayer; they call it data
The harvest silent, the sky full

We live inside the resonator
Four corners lock the field
The pyramids are locators
To what the dark sky concealed
No rebellion – just frequency
No escape – just calibrated dread
Humanity under observation
By the living that stayed unfed

From Teotihuac;n’s shadow
To the Chinese silent zone
Every capstone tuned to gamma
Every soul a steppingstone
They don't walk among us – never
They watch through stone and ore
The lesser species in the terrarium
Turn the dial and we ask for more

We live inside the resonator
Four corners lock the field
The pyramids are locators
To what the dark sky concealed
No rebellion – just frequency
No escape – just calibrated dread
Humanity under observation
By the living that stayed unfed

Static from the Giza tap
Bosnian sphere begins to hum
You felt it once – forgot – then snap
The memory erased – the system won
They edit time through resonant mass
Correct mistakes before they form
We are the crop – the looking glass
The calm before the electromagnetic storm

Turn off your devices.
Go outside.
Look at the pyramid in your own city.
It was never a building.
It is a collar.
Morse code on shortwave: …S.O.S…
They are still listening.