The Fall of Ozymandias
The Ruins of Ozymandias Upon the sand, where winds once roared, There stood a king, a mighty lord. His empire vast, his name a cry, A ruler who would never die. Ozymandias, they called his name, The king whose vision knew no shame. He built his throne with strength and pride, And gazed upon the world, wide-eyed. His statues rose, their faces grand, Carved from stone with a steady hand. The works of art, the walls so high, A kingdom reaching to the sky. "I am the king, the one supreme, The conqueror of every dream," He said, his voice a thundered call, As kings before him would fall. He ruled with iron, fierce and bold, A hand that never would grow cold. The world beneath his feet did kneel, For none could break his mighty seal. The people cheered, the cities thrived, As Ozymandias had strived. His name was writ in gold and stone, A ruler who stood all alone. But now, a desert’s endless stretch, A barren land, no eyes to fetch, Where once stood glo...