Silhouettes of a Revolution

They’re here to hijack the Revolution;
their god as their witness.
They can’t help but mistake our evolution
as a sign of resistance.

But don’t get it twisted—Revolution is our birthright!
See how our heavenly bodies silhouette in the
moonlight, under streetlights,
in the limelight; in hindsight?
—we stay steady, vibrating at the most heights!

They’ll blindfold you and tell you that it’s night—
so you can sleep through wars declared in your life.
Their forefathers knew we were born of the Light,
soon we shall set flame to the darkness 

and crusade through the night.
So when our fires arise, don’t be surprised by the blaze.
We’ve kept sparks in our spirits for generations, unchained.

What if I told you that today, standing in front of you,
are vessels of kings containing God’s burning spirit within?
Like—if God had children,
we’d most like-kingly be His kin.
But when they saw the melanin on this skin,
all they saw was dollars.
And it makes sense as to why countless scholars
couldn’t make sense of what they saw;
for what they sought was cents, not source.
So they sold their thoughts for pennies,
and our bodies for half that many a piece—
shipping our bodies to the West from the East.
And still, our souls don’t know no peace.