Sands of Time

Shelley saw the unmaking of man

in sands stretching as far as eye could see.

He did not look behind to see the sands

of time which have made us who we are.

Long dead poets, buried painters, decayed kings

of sculpture, music, dance and epic

live on.

Ozymandias had his day, but it is Homer

to whom we pay homage now.

It is Beethoven whose notes stretch as far

as ear can hear.

Sand buries not these artists,

as was the fate of the king of kings,

but carries them from dune to dune,

pausing now and again to breathe new life into

souls that will receive them.


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