The first session of Tenebrae, the vampire LARP I am helping run, is this coming Saturday so for the past several days I have been Dave-deep in rules, story, and safety procedures. Half because I am thusly somewhat tapped out for interesting thoughts and half as a sigil to keep my humble as I take up fake godhood, I have decided to share one of my favourite poems.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller 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.”
The irony of course is that the works of Ramses (here called Ozymandias) are well-known throughout many areas of the world in some form or another, so he seems to be getting his immortality.