Of Banks and Babylon:
A Letter to the Watchful in a Time of Manufactured Collapse
By Silence Dogood, May 2, 2025
To those with ears to hear and lamps trimmed with oil,
Today the bells toll for the banks, but not for the reasons their wardens would have you believe. As dawn broke over the republic, the guardians of commerce—those once tasked with the sacred duty of safekeeping our wages, our legacies, and our daily bread—stood in silence. Machines faltered. Balances vanished. Access was denied. The people murmured. Yet the heralds of mainstream news, with eyes wide shut, told us it was merely “technical,” a passing glitch, perhaps the early celebration of a national holiday.
But I have lived long enough, and died often enough in the cause of liberty, to know the sound of a blade being sharpened behind the curtain. These are not glitches. These are rehearsals.
It is the oldest trick in the book of empires: to orchestrate a calamity and cast the blame upon the enemy of your regime. And make no mistake—the man they fear most is once again poised to reenter the court of kings, bearing not just the crown of defiance, but the scars of betrayal. Should he rise, and should he command the winds of reform, the architects of this financial plague will pin their poison to his robe and call it just retribution.
Even now, the sorcerers of currency—those high priests of Powell’s temple—tighten the screws of interest not to ease your suffering, but to fortify their own citadel. They will not open the vaults. They will not ease the pressure. For they see what you are not yet meant to see: their tower is burning. The books are cooked, the ledgers swollen with crimes too vast for audit. And so, under the cloak of “technical outages,” they erase the evidence, purge the trails, and reposition their pawns.
This, dear reader, is not just banking collapse. It is the silencing of the monetary altar before Babylon falls. It is the cleansing of digital blood from golden hands. It is the prelude to a control grid cloaked in necessity—a grid that, once complete, will demand your obedience not in words, but in wallet.
But all is not lost. A remnant sees. A remnant remembers. A remnant still carries the fire of truth in broken lanterns. Let those who have prepared now stand firm, not in fear, but in clarity. For every outage, every “error,” every whisper of economic despair is a trumpet sounding the end of their age and the birth pangs of another.
Take courage. Speak truth. Preserve your households. Trust not in Egypt’s banks, but in the storehouses of the Most High. For as their vaults fail, heaven’s treasury is just being opened.
Until liberty rings again,
—Silence Dogood