Quote:
|
I met a traveler 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 upon 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.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822
|
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
I was flying into Toronto one time, and, having already flown over Niagara and seen the falls, I was busy looking out the window, fascinated by the unique point of view you get from such a position. As we came into land, we flew over a freeway on which thousands of cars, trucks and tankers were flowing. Where were they all going? And why were they making all that effort? The town spread out below me like a concrete patchwork, points of interest, and higher land value identified by taller structures dotted here and there. Why had people gone to all the bother of building these structures? What drove them on? What makes people build, when we all know, deep down, that everything we create will ultimately be destroyed. Why aren't we all sunning ourselves on the beach, enjoying our short times here, rather than running about, appearing to those in aeroplanes (and anyone else who might be watching) like so many industrious ants.
In the long run, everything crumbles and rots away, society overturns, cities burn, and statues tumble. In 2000 years time, what ruins will people walk among and wonder at the ancient cultures that lived all that time ago?