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
What is your guys' take on this? I find this particular poem quite interesting. Makes you think... all great Kings in history have had a downfall. It's inevitable. But why do you think that is? Why is every King doomed to have a downfall? Ego trips?
Anyway, I feel like this would be the best place to discuss this.