read the poem “Ozymandias” last night,
Wherein “All earthly deeds shall surely
Is scribed in ancient stone. Is this not
What muse delights in clichés blown of
Between the lines, a brilliant star
Proclaiming no respect for gods or kings,
With conscience weak and bruised by
In search of peace that only mercy brings.
Whose tears do I see in the pharaoh’s
Imploring time to sweep his sins away?
Or is he mocking God in rival guise,
Dispelling guilt, thus no more debts to
Alas! Our works in stone we cannot save,
But those of flesh endure beyond the