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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".
Originally posted by Druid42
reply to post by masqua
Wow, you picked a severely hard topic to write about, as only the megalomaniacs want to be as such. I checked earlier today, and saw no replies, and was hhhmmm. I waited til now to comment.
Nobody wants to rule the world, it's a darned headache. Heck, the POTUS can't even run a country.
The logistics of such an endeavor are quite beyond me, but as a story I'll work a tiny thought I had years ago, and perhaps produce something semi-palatable.......