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491. Ozymandias, Reincarnated
Long ago in the land of Babylon,
Pharaoh Ramesses the Great, sat upon
The throne and in sculpted grandeur, he said --
Inscribed on a mighty but lifeless spread:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
And much time passed but on that antique land
Where now a youthful peasant stands on sand
To see his own inscription with despair
And look upon his own creation, shared
Once as Ozymandias the King; for there
He spies the sculptured wreck, in ruins bare;
Gone the realm, all the grandeur abated --
King of kings, he stands reincarnated!
So, the one with mere mention of whose
Name the world shook, now, unsceptred stands
But with a simple shepherd’s crook in hand,
And simpler mind for the desolation
He does not understand; yet, somewhere deep
Within him still stirs the visceral force --
Impish impulse, against which he shouts hoarse,
The beckoning flashes of recollections
Of a life past, but in total contrast
To all he has learnt to believe in, and known --
To negate without, but within intone:
“But I’m the great, renown King of yore, I declare,
I am Ozymandias of earth and air
Regarding my mighty works, in despair!”
None, but none pays heed to the peasant’s rant
As he, but in induced delirium grows
And in responses to vapours within
Repeats and repeats past grandeurs verbose;
For all this silent ranting in his breast,
Not a word of it is whispered or voiced,
As men impressed gather round the ruins,
Recalling how Ozymandias rejoiced!
(From The Unsung Log—© Ronnie Patel)