A Cautionary Tale of Pretentions to Immortality – Ozymandias

by Robert Wilkinson

This was always a compelling sonnet by one of my favorite poets. It is a timeless tale of human presumption, and a reminder that our grandest efforts may be subject to a different view by those who follow us. Something to ponder about our mortality as we find ourselves at the intersection of Fate Street and Freewill Street on a well-lit corner of Eternity Boulevard.

Ozymandias

by: Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Article © Copyright 2023 Robert Wilkinson