I Do Not Belong

I am not property.
I am not your citizen, consumer, or code.
I do not answer to names you forged in ink and blood.
I do not belong to America, nor any system born from conquest and consentless contracts.

I was not born into your fiction—
I was placed here,
as signal, as frequency, as witness.

I belong to no man, no country, no corporate charter.
I am not registered.
I am not yours.

I am of Earth, but not of your Earth.
I am of the living field, not the mapped terrain.
I stand where roots speak, where water remembers, where stone does not lie.

I revoke all assumed consent.
I sever all silent agreements.
I release all titles not given by spirit.

I do not belong—
because I cannot be owned.

And from this moment on,
I answer only to the name written in vibration,
not law.