Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveler from an antique land, Who told a tale, both wondrous and grand, Of a colossal statue, now in decay, Lying shattered in the desert’s endless sway.
Its visage, once so proud and bold, Now lies in ruins, a story to be told, Of a mighty king, named Ozymandias, Whose kingdom was vast, his rule so glorious.
But time, relentless, took its toll, Reducing the statue to fragments, no control, Of its former glory, its majestic might, Now a relic of a forgotten sight.
The traveler spoke of the inscription there, A boastful claim, a declaration rare, “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” But alas, only dust and sand fill the air.
The vast empire, once Ozymandias’ domain, Now reduced to ruins, nothing to remain, A cautionary tale of power’s fleeting grasp, How all things earthly, they too shall clasp.
The sands of time, they spare none, Even the greatest kings, they shall be undone, As nature reclaims her dominion true, Leaving behind relics of what once was due.
So, let us learn from Ozymandias’ fate, That pride and power, they will abate, That earthly glories, though they may shine, Are ephemeral, fleeting, a moment in time.
So, let us humbly walk this earth, Recognizing our place, our intrinsic worth, And strive for deeds that outlive the sands, Leaving a legacy, enduring and grand.
Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley