In ancient desert sands so dry and vast,
Stands a statue of a king revered to the last,
Ozymandias, once ruler of a great land,
Now his kingdom exists only in sand.
The traveler draws close and sees with awe,
The visage of a mighty king with a jaw so raw,
Upon the pedestal, a message in stone,
The boastful words of a king overthrown.
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings,
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
But who now looks upon his mighty works?
The sands of time have buried them in murks.
His empire crumbled, his power lost,
His once-great world now nothing but frost,
A cautionary tale of mortal pride,
And how even great kings can be swept aside.
So remember, all who hold position high,
That power is fleeting and time flies by,
Let Ozymandias stand as a warning true,
Of the fate that could befall each one