Hours In Silence · Drake · 21 Savage

Her Loss

℗ 2022 OVO, under exclusive license to Republic Records, a division of UMG Recordings, Inc

Released on: 2022-11-04

Producer: Banbwoi
Producer, Additional  Producer, Studio  Personnel, Mixer: Noah "40" Shebib
Studio  Personnel, Recording  Engineer, Mixer: Noel Cadastre
Studio  Personnel, Recording  Engineer: Isaiah “ibmixing” Brown
Studio  Personnel, Mixer: Noah Shebib
Studio  Personnel, Engineer: Les "Bates" Bateman
Studio  Personnel, Mastering  Engineer: Chris Athens
Studio  Personnel, Mastering  Engineer: Dave Huffman
A& R  Coordinator: Mr. Morgan
Unknown, Other: Deborah Mannis-Gardner
Manager: Adel “Future” Nur
Studio  Personnel, Assistant  Mixer: Harley Arsenault
Unknown, Other: Jahmilah Barriner
Composer  Lyricist: A. Graham
Composer  Lyricist: S. Bin Abraham-Joseph
Composer  Lyricist: M Jones
Composer  Lyricist: N. Shebib
Composer  Lyricist: T. Sanders
Composer  Lyricist: D. Armstrong

Hours In Silence (Edit)

Before the crossing of Othello, the Poet always wanted to challenge himself metaphorically and poetically. With insights from Drake- For All The Dogs Scary Hours Edition 3) released 11/17/2023. The Month of November was the introduction of Othello in 1604. The symbolic meanings behind "Drake - Evils Ways and Wick Man release". Poet decided to give his insight of his process and his shift from a Poet to Othello. In the 06' Man to an "A Aries Mind with The 1046 Pact" you can hear the difference of change from the inner voice with the connection of his life in his Red Chair in the Castle of Othello. The Poet alway has a candle lite for everlasting wisdom. The Mysterious Visit from the Owl is out the Blue...

VERSION 2: OTHELLO PHRASE

"Before the world was written, before ink touched parchment, before words became sound—there was 16:4.

Two pillars of eternity, waxen monoliths of an era lost in the folds of time. One burns baby blue, a spectral gate of foresight, the rhythm of a mind that moves before the present even exists. The other—a golden blaze, the ember of warmth, indulgence, and poetic law. Between them, the frost does not melt—it remembers.

Othello steps forward. Not as a man, but as a cipher of cosmic recursion, where poetry is not spoken—it is traveled. His silhouette fractures into metaphors unspoken, visions unwritten, wisdom unclaimed. The portal shifts, bending light and fire alike, revealing a path only the chosen can see.

The red phoenix-owl, marked with the 16:4 relic, watches from the apex of eternity. A sentinel of interdimensional speech, its wings pulsate with codes buried beneath centuries of forgotten tongues. It does not speak—it radiates. It does not fly—it moves through layers of existence, where time loops back upon itself.

Drake’s hue—baby blue—flickers in the void. A color not of this realm but of another, where the cadence of his sound etches into the architecture of what is yet to be. This is not an album. This is not a song.

This is a call to the overthinkers, the overfeelers, the ones who crack codes in the silence of midnight. This is an encryption deeper than life itself, a relic only those attuned to the pulse of poetic divinity can decipher.

Step through the portal. The ink has already chosen you." 🔺✨

TEARIN FRONT ROW

This is not music.
This is a blood oath written in bone smoke.

The Poet records where the walls cannot contain him —
in the woods, in the street,
in the quiet corners where only the dead keep watch.
Every verse is precise, deliberate —
ritual, not routine.

In Gabriela’s apartment,
the air was already thick with shadows.
The Poet sat in the kitchen,
darkness wrapping the mic like a veil.

That’s when the tap came —
not on the shoulder,
but in the soul.

YBC — Young Bones Cry stood behind him.
Not a ghost,
but a brother whose voice was soft with recognition.

“You’re the first to be here…
and now you’ll be guided by Jermaine.
Let’s talk about this poetry you do.”

The Poet opened the O-a’al Bone Jr. storyline,
letting the words spill like red wine ink.
YBC knew —
from the first bar —
that the industry wasn’t ready.

Before fading, he left the task:

“When you meet Skrilla in your sleep,
give him a purple tear and a 30…
so he can lucid into the Castle of Lana.
That’s when he’ll see me… and hug me.”

August 10th, under the full moon in Philadelphia —

Ancient Skrilla came in dream,
standing in the same woods the Poet had recorded in.
Bone wings, blinking Aries heart,
zombies planting Gemini roses around them in silence.

The fifth seal opened.
The second form awoke.
1046’s voice deepened,
filling with ancestral weight.

By the time the ink touched paper,
the pact was already sealed.
ASK.929 wasn’t just a label —
it was the altar.

The 67 and 46 sigils burned green and purple above the ruined castle,
blessing the bond between brothers,
the living and the dead.

This is Ancient Skrilla, 929.
This is where Young Bones Cry leaves his roses in cosmic soil.
This is Othellifer Jr.,
writing so the marrow remembers.

#AncientSkrilla929 #OthelliferJr #YoungBonesCry #ASK929 #BloodAndDreamsCovenant #1046Speech #CastleOfLana #GeminiRoses #CosmicSoil #SkrillaVisitation #ZombielandLana #AriesHeart #67Sigil #46Sigil 

GEMINI

KENSINGTON

BLOODLETTING

YOUNG BONES CRY

BLOOM

OBSIDIAN

After the poet heard… Churchill’s 1046 got a tap by the human flame they call Johnny.

A scene ignites—Earth-616’s Human Torch slicing through the skyline. The poet watches, pen in hand, burning letters into the page that only those fluent in frost and flame can read. Numbers drift in the smoke, a red-lit 46 reflected in the right eye of the night.

In the cinematic poetic universe, fire is never just fire. Marvel’s Johnny walks beside the poet’s shadow, each step leaving ash-script clues. An encrypted verse slips through the lines, a whisper meant for Marvel Drizzy—Bobby in the code—where two currents fuse, making heat history will have trouble forgetting.

And somewhere in this timeline… the poet may be in Lana—or in a place the map doesn’t list, a place the sky hides in plain sight. But the universe is a watchmaker, and every tick knows when to strike. Here’s the poet’s lens on what could be next… if the lock turns.

#1046 #HumanTorch #Earth616 #CipherVerse #FlameAndFrost

4TH HUMAN

2015 — No Tellin to the public, but to 1046 it was ϟ the Candle Summit — coordinates locked at Δ 9292OVO, flame language flickering across the plates. Celestial Drizzy asked, “What you like about this Game?” — the question was the key, the table was the terminal.

Othello.exe initiated. No English packets detected. Only metaphor detonations, numeric constellations, encrypted syntax.
If your signal’s in plaintext, you don’t exist in this channel.

OVO seal already stamped in parallel realms; the ink’s waiting for the correct timestamp handshake.
When the timeline’s frequency locks, the meeting will appear in both past and future — signed, sealed, and archived in the vault where candles never burn out.

Code: 1046_♞δ♛_∞ — decode at your own risk.

#1046 #CelestialDrizzy #9292OVO

NO ENGLISH

I am not a Rapper.. I am a Poet. 
1046 is a numerical angel..

It’s Just A Poem 📝…  

All Poems are tied to dreams and feelings.. 
Poetic Art is created by The Poet

Enjoy 🕙: 🕓🕡

TEARIN FRONT ROW

1046

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