The act unknown enter in sleep Here I am turned and here I see the circle in bones made in haste
He waits to anoint the faithful
In all things left unturned for all to know Rising right beside me will he wait for the quiet terror Do we known and levitate embodied by a boy His voice small and weak wisp of smoke to be chosen
All by their heads he places crowns
to witness entire towns
The boy blesses whispers into words in the painted valleys they await rain