The swift majestic descent from a vermillion sky,
Bringing a mythology of much needed peace,
A seraph pauses with a troubled world,his gaze
Fixed in the sculptor's bronze snapshot,
Holding in one graceful hand an emblem of peace.
Somehow he seemed happy at the Armistice,
For after man and his machines
Had made killing fields and a great holocaust at Babi Yar ravine,
Peace had carried an expensive price tag.
Perhaps not as robust a physiognomy
As Michelangelo's magnificent Moses,
His heavenly gait graciously extended to our brown earth,
This seraph,artistic or even poetic,
Pauses in the midst of his syntax,
With upraised slender hand in a gesture that was as splendid,
As manifesting an endeavour to bless,
And as celestial emissary seemingly offering hope.
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