I have a lot of favorite poems. This one always gives me hope

[bill_schubert]

I was first exposed to it in high school English.
Ozymandias

 

By 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.

I was reading today about how the manner in which the current president constructs his edicts lends them to being 'disappeared' in a rapid fashion even before he is dethroned.   Executive orders do not hang around the same as legislation tempered in the Capital.   Some of what he is doing will remain but like Ozimandias it will dwindle over time until it will be hard to remember what was such a big deal.

The current movement by our allies to gird their own loins and harden their own alliances is sad to see in some ways, that they do not trust us (nor should they) will I hope swing back when sanity returns.  It is my suspicion that I will not live to see the majority of the return of the U.S. being any kind of hopeful beacon to the world.  But I don't see another country filling the roll so we will be around later if not sooner.

And I won't be around to see the dessication and decay of Ozimandias but will, I hope, soon enough dance on the toppled visage.  

Comments

[mallorys_camera]

This is one of my favorite poems, too. 😀

[bill_schubert]

And this from Gemini:

Gemini said
(The stage is dimly lit, perhaps by the flickering glow of a single lamp. An individual sits at a desk cluttered with newspapers and old books. They speak not to the audience, but to the shadows in the corner of the room, their voice a mix of weary cynicism and a strange, burgeoning spark of defiance.)

I read today of the "King of Kings"—or at least, the man who fancies himself such.

He builds his legacy not in stone, but in the ink of edicts—decrees scrawled upon the shifting sands of executive whim. They tell me these works will vanish; that they are being unmade even as he sits upon the throne. And why shouldn’t they? Such "mighty works" lack the enduring iron of law tempered in the heat of the Capitol. They are but ghosts in the machine.

(They lean forward, tracing the edge of a book—perhaps a collection of Shelley.)

Oh, some remnants will persist, I suppose. A pedestal here, a trunkless leg there. But in time, like Ozymandias, they shall dwindle into a colossal wreck. The day will come when men look upon these ruins and struggle to remember why they once inspired such terror, or such zeal.

And our allies? Look at them. Girding their loins, hardening their hearts, turning away to find strength in their own company. It is a melancholy spectacle to witness that bridge being burned, yet I cannot blame them. Who would trust a beacon that flickers with every change of the wind?

I fear I shan’t live to see the light return—to see the U.S. restored as a hopeful signal to a darkening world. But look around... who else is there? No other nation steps forward to claim the mantle. And so we shall remain: a weathered monument in a vacant land, waiting for a morning that feels a lifetime away.

(A cold, sharp smile touches their lips.)

I may not be here to witness the final desiccation—the slow, silent decay of this Ozymandias. But I have one hope left. One small, selfish, glorious hope: that before I go, I shall have the chance to dance upon the half-sunk, shattered visage.

(The lights fade to black.)

[mallorys_camera]

In the novel I'm currently writing, one of my protagonists likes to go tromping through the most derelict parts of inner cities where one-time mansions have turned to slums because she's chasing down "the Ozymandias factor". 😀

[bill_schubert]

Oh, wonderful. One day we'll be dancing on his head. I'm staying in shape for that moment.

[bill_schubert]

Look what Microsoft CoPilot did with it:

I read today of edicts swiftly cast,
That vanish ere their maker’s reign is past.
Executive decrees, unlike the laws
Forged in the Capitol, endure with flaws.

Some remnants linger, yet like Ozymandias,
They dwindle, fade, and crumble into dust.
What once seemed vast, monumental, profound,
Will scatter, leaving silence on the ground.

Our allies gird themselves, alliances made,
Distrust of us—nor should their trust be paid.
Perhaps when sanity returns, they’ll bend,
But I suspect I’ll not live to that end.

The beacon dimmed, the world bereft of flame,
No other nation rises to the claim.
We shall persist, though later than we ought,
A shadow of the promise once we brought.

And though I’ll never see the full decay,
Of Ozymandias, stone by stone away,
I hope to dance upon the visage torn,
Toppled, broken, mocked, and left forlorn.

I do so love AI sometimes.

[msconduct]

I'm afraid I don't see a speedy return to old alliances, even if the current Ozymandias was toppled tomorrow. The problem is not him, it's the circumstances that gave rise to his success. I don't think a lot of Americans really understand how quickly things have changed out here in that regard. Threats to sovereignty, in particular, have made a huge mark, on threatened countries but on many others too.

My hope is not for a return to the previous situation, since I don't think that's going to happen. Instead it's in Mark Carney's call for an alliance of the middle-sized powers. He's the leader of the free world to me now. I can no longer count as free a country where people are being shot in the streets. I studied the history of the first half of the 20th century, my family suffered through the Blitz in opposition to it, and I know what it is.