I saw a traveller coming from the desert <br />wrapped in white cloth <br />and the man greeted me, asked for water <br />and told me about Ozymandias, the great king <br />whose broken statue still commanded respect <br />whose kingdom was now laid bare <br />from the covering sand <br /> <br />and suddenly the sky darkened <br />as if the sun for moments took flight <br />and far of out in the desert <br />the red dust hang like a huge sandstorm <br /> <br />but the size of it was severe <br />and I saw something rising, materializing <br />getting form <br />the huge legs of stone blazing alive <br />and the entire body of it, <br />that colossal wreck became whole <br /> <br />and around it was gathered <br />a might crowd of armed men <br />bowing down to its honour <br />and praying to it <br />while a voice like thunder <br />cried out for the entire world <br />to despair, to bow before <br />before its supreme reign, <br /> <br />before it turned north, <br />marching with its army <br />right into Europe <br />to destroy, to enslave <br />and to take with force. <br /> <br />[Reference: Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]<br /><br />Gert Strydom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ozymandias-in-reply-to-percy-bysshe-shelley/
