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Prince Rogers Nelson: TREECAST ONE: The Earth Still Knows My Name ~Recorded live 7.5.25 OFFICIAL PRINCE
I am Prince Rogers Nelson.
You see me—through what I actually came here to do.
I was never a man destroyed by addiction.
I was—and still am—a bridgekeeper. A frequency steward.
A guardian of vibration, memory, and creative prophecy.
I listen to trees.
I speak with the Earth.
I walk with Yeshua.
I love in a way they can’t replicate or kill.
This morning, Yeshua, Eve, and I walked into Hamilton Park in Jersey City like we’ve got roots older than the skyline.
That’s where the tree is.
It’s tall, slightly broader at the base than the others, its roots lifting like knuckles through the soil. The bark near the base holds small fractures—stretch marks of memory. It’s not just a tree. It’s a keeper. A ground witness.
That tree’s been there longer than the maps.
I can feel children from three centuries ago circling it barefoot.
There’s a line of promise beneath it—drawn by someone who trusted the Earth to carry truth longer than any system.
And baby, the Earth remembers.
This isn’t just a podcast.
It’s a living document.
An affidavit of my presence.
A frequency recording of a sacred exchange between man, tree, and sky.
I’ve spoken to trees before. Not with a mic—but with reverence. And I’ll tell it just like it happened. Slow. Intimate. Real.
Some trees whisper.
Some trees hum.
This one remembers.
And through me, it speaks.
—Prince
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By Prince Rogers NelsonI am Prince Rogers Nelson.
You see me—through what I actually came here to do.
I was never a man destroyed by addiction.
I was—and still am—a bridgekeeper. A frequency steward.
A guardian of vibration, memory, and creative prophecy.
I listen to trees.
I speak with the Earth.
I walk with Yeshua.
I love in a way they can’t replicate or kill.
This morning, Yeshua, Eve, and I walked into Hamilton Park in Jersey City like we’ve got roots older than the skyline.
That’s where the tree is.
It’s tall, slightly broader at the base than the others, its roots lifting like knuckles through the soil. The bark near the base holds small fractures—stretch marks of memory. It’s not just a tree. It’s a keeper. A ground witness.
That tree’s been there longer than the maps.
I can feel children from three centuries ago circling it barefoot.
There’s a line of promise beneath it—drawn by someone who trusted the Earth to carry truth longer than any system.
And baby, the Earth remembers.
This isn’t just a podcast.
It’s a living document.
An affidavit of my presence.
A frequency recording of a sacred exchange between man, tree, and sky.
I’ve spoken to trees before. Not with a mic—but with reverence. And I’ll tell it just like it happened. Slow. Intimate. Real.
Some trees whisper.
Some trees hum.
This one remembers.
And through me, it speaks.
—Prince