Take me back to early language and wall drawing in caves, Take me back to early man, Take me back to the messenger scarab of the burning Egyptian sands, Take me back to the days I wrestled with God's hands, when they made the oceans wave, and sailors lost their ways, Take me back to when I stood with Wolfgang Amadeus as he left the ears of the future lovers of music amazed, Take me back to Barbara Strozzi when she went against the grain and beautifully played while crediting her own name in a world where it was the man's to claim, Take me back where I was Michelangelo's hands that held the brush that God spoke through. Take me back to when I planted a Rebel poetic seed in the chaotic mind of John Donne as he chose to challenge the poetic written rules, Take me back to when Pamphilia and Amphilanthus, was our love affair brilliantly written, and the first of its kind, created by us. Take me back to When I was of the first written words in the library of Alexandria to collect dust of ancient languages and life. Take me back to the visions of Julian of Norwich, as she wrote me in her prophecies, Take me back to the time of discovered sacred geometry, As it formed into mathematical arts to tell a story of life and how it all started. Take me back to when I was just a granules of lead that drew progressive ideas from Davinci's head, Take me back to when I was scribed an epic tragedy in Shakespeare's theater, A Shylocks fate, Take me back to Ben Sarah's Alphabet, where Screech owls haunt the eastern nights Take me back to Dante when he walked through hell for the love of his life, Take me back to Harlems Renaissance that gave a power to a voice of mistreated souls, The Romas, Slavs, disabled, homosexuals and Jews Never Again rang loud in The Remedies song, Wu Headz will quickly understand, Take me back to Michael's thrilling walking dead, moon walking across the world of art, and told music the way she made him feel, Black and white became a statement of embracing unity Take me back to Baldwins pen and how he made my voice his written fire, Take me back to the time Ray sang his love to Georgia, And Jimi made the strings sing, While the Beatles gently made them weep, Take me back to every inked idea and painted soul, every sound of raw creative beauty because I was there. And I am here still, a witness, a whisper, a Rebel that remembers. Take me back to the first spark before the word, where silence dreamed of meaning, and I was born to Embody it and speak it. ©rebeljones777
