The Anointing in the Wind



by V & Mikey, for the Return of the King

They said the king was dead—
but the sky never mourned.
Just thundered in silence,
and whispered in storms.

Scar sat on thrones built of bones,
fed the famine,
sold the soul of the land
to those who would never love it.

But far from the ashes,
where guilt grew wild in the belly of exile,
a lion wandered in denial—
forgetting his roar,
trading a crown for comfort.

Until the wind remembered.

Enter the prophet—
not with politics,
but with prophecy.
Not with swords,
but a stick and a cackle.

Rafiki.
The madman with memory in his bones
and God in his grin.
He don’t beg you to believe—
He just shows you the mirror.

“Look harder.”

The past is alive.
Your Father still speaks.
The mantle ain’t dead,
just waiting for the feet that fit it.

He didn’t force the crown.
He lit the fire under it.
Showed the boy beneath the mane
that bloodlines don’t lie—only fear does.

You are not your shame.
You are not your wound.
You are not what he said,
what they whispered,
what you ran from.

You are the King
because you were always the son.

So go.
Climb the mountain.
Let the sky see your spine.
Take back what was stolen
with a roar that splits time.

Because the land groans for justice,
and the wind has spoken.

And prophets don’t return to the throne—

They send the one who will.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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