This isn’t a mighty angel
   with a flamecopper trumpet –
proclaiming us the end of an era,
   no cracking of broken seals
opens the book of judgement

This is a small defenceless girl –
   without a blazing sword
playing tremolo on the flute
   announcing prophecy to the world
pregnant like the sands of Sinai

Sinai – where the wind is born olive –
   has so much sun and skyblue
for churches out of chaliced bones
   for synagogues full of seagulls
and for mosques out of melaphyre

It has so much sun and skyblue
   but the seals still crumble
and the books glow in the ashes.
   The flame copper wind blinded the angel,
the flute glistens like a sword over the century