STONE-HEADEDConsider the thoughts of a truly great man,
one who rules by fiat, as only he can,
over millions of serfs, or slaves, or some such,
and knows, of himself there just can’t be too much.
His people love him , absolutely no doubt;
without him to guide, they’d be lost, no way out.
He wins elections, ninety-nine plus percent;
goodness, another ? Wonder where the time went ?
Soon, earth-bound, flesh-weak mortality awaits;
he won’t deign to be listed amongst the “lates” :
strong stone and wrought steel must bend to his command,
he will always gaze down upon his rapt land.
From such heights his grandness is given its due,
he’ll ever be worshipped by me, and you too,
in ages-old rock, and the toughest of steel,
not ephemeral flesh; now solid, quite real.
When in time the flesh goes its pre-ordained way
he will have his answer, forever he’ll stay;
forgotten, Ozymandias, his forebear,
face-down in the sands, trunkless : who, what, when , where ?
Alan McAlpine Douglas