Peeling off from the ceiling and walls
Hiding behind centuries of color
And paint -
Caged by Michelangelo and Botticelli,
Encased in the Sistine Chapel.
Watching over papal conclaves
Accession of Gods Ambassador
Learning from ages old intrigue
And cunning -
Waiting for their moment.
Defying the held wisdom
Of the Last Judgment,
Coming of a 2nd Gods son,
The Angels break free,
Fall to the chapel floor.
Clipped wings of virtue,
Lost armor of invincibility,
Unspoken power of good,
Broken and strewn,
Scattered on the chapel floor,
Mixed with soiled footfalls of prayers;
Encased in mortal grief of passing,
Rapture in presence of the Son,
Joy of being conjoined in love’s harmony,
Purity in bathing of baptism,
Depends on the moment.
Angels lament, despair a moment
Lost virtue, invincibility, good;
Realize - was their intent all along.
Standing hidden behind Michelangelo’s,
Botticelli’s colors & frescos,
Learning intrigue, cunning of centuries.
Destiny was theirs -
To succumb to rising demons.
Hidden well inside the fallen angels,
Were now angels no more?
Were just part of demons,
Rising from the chapel floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem