Spirit Of Ozymandias
© Surazeus
2018 01 23
Through ruins of ancient temples I step
to penetrate shadows of long-lost dreams
that beamed bright from minds of people who lived
long ago in swift spinning of our world.
I see their faces in people alive
today, forgotten memories inscribed
in visions their eyes beam without words
that record how they struggled against death.
From rubble of long crumbled paradigm
I retrieve the face of a broken statue,
and gaze into the blankness of its eyes
to see the hopes and fears the sculptor saw.
Aggressive warriors, arrogant matrons,
greedy merchants, visionary oracles,
dedicated farmers, artistic crafters,
all those people now dust under my feet.
I am alive now on this turning world,
beaming my own paradigm of events
that narrates history of human progress
based on the stories of those long-dead souls.
The grave epoch of history in my heart
weighs my whole body down with eminence
of ponderous purview through vast scope of time
that details achievements of humanity.
I long to break free from enclosing shell
of my body, molded from wet Earth clay,
and fly on bold Icarian wings toward stars
so I may survey migrations of mankind.
When that huge meteor smashed into our globe
and destroyed all the giant dinosaurs
its searing blast killed every living soul
across vast American continents.
Eutherian mammals, hiding in small caves
of towering karst mountains of lush Guilin,
survived the brutal winters of that age,
and migrated west to cover the world.
Swinging between tall trees in playful joy,
we gathered fruit to eat in paradise
and hummed hymns together in harmony,
connecting words to objects we perceive.
Descending from thick trees in Africa,
we tailless monkeys swam in ocean waves
to walk upright in surging tides of hope,
then danced around fires we caught from the sky.
We sharpened rocks and polished sticks as wands,
then caped ourselves in skins of animals,
while choosing wisest mind to lead our group,
and guide us from waste land to paradise.
We followed cows down winding river Nile
and built high ziggurats from bricks we baked
where Amen taught us how to sing sweet hymns
and share our stories of experience.
We spread from Egypt to colonize Earth,
writing pictures in clay to signify
subjects who perform actions in events
that compose epic tale of human life.
I stand on star-high peak of pyramid
that has stood in wind for thousands of years
and see sprawling cities of steel and glass
that shimmer with electric lights of hope.
We build new temples of humming machines
on ancient foundations of broken stone
to honor the Spirit of Ozymandias
who inspires us to build towers of glass.
© Surazeus
2018 01 23
Through ruins of ancient temples I step
to penetrate shadows of long-lost dreams
that beamed bright from minds of people who lived
long ago in swift spinning of our world.
I see their faces in people alive
today, forgotten memories inscribed
in visions their eyes beam without words
that record how they struggled against death.
From rubble of long crumbled paradigm
I retrieve the face of a broken statue,
and gaze into the blankness of its eyes
to see the hopes and fears the sculptor saw.
Aggressive warriors, arrogant matrons,
greedy merchants, visionary oracles,
dedicated farmers, artistic crafters,
all those people now dust under my feet.
I am alive now on this turning world,
beaming my own paradigm of events
that narrates history of human progress
based on the stories of those long-dead souls.
The grave epoch of history in my heart
weighs my whole body down with eminence
of ponderous purview through vast scope of time
that details achievements of humanity.
I long to break free from enclosing shell
of my body, molded from wet Earth clay,
and fly on bold Icarian wings toward stars
so I may survey migrations of mankind.
When that huge meteor smashed into our globe
and destroyed all the giant dinosaurs
its searing blast killed every living soul
across vast American continents.
Eutherian mammals, hiding in small caves
of towering karst mountains of lush Guilin,
survived the brutal winters of that age,
and migrated west to cover the world.
Swinging between tall trees in playful joy,
we gathered fruit to eat in paradise
and hummed hymns together in harmony,
connecting words to objects we perceive.
Descending from thick trees in Africa,
we tailless monkeys swam in ocean waves
to walk upright in surging tides of hope,
then danced around fires we caught from the sky.
We sharpened rocks and polished sticks as wands,
then caped ourselves in skins of animals,
while choosing wisest mind to lead our group,
and guide us from waste land to paradise.
We followed cows down winding river Nile
and built high ziggurats from bricks we baked
where Amen taught us how to sing sweet hymns
and share our stories of experience.
We spread from Egypt to colonize Earth,
writing pictures in clay to signify
subjects who perform actions in events
that compose epic tale of human life.
I stand on star-high peak of pyramid
that has stood in wind for thousands of years
and see sprawling cities of steel and glass
that shimmer with electric lights of hope.
We build new temples of humming machines
on ancient foundations of broken stone
to honor the Spirit of Ozymandias
who inspires us to build towers of glass.
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