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Power - Poetry - Lakeside Park

"Anxious Heart" from Final Fantasy VII (2.75 KB)

Power

The tree stood unmoved for 300 years
until the Earth shook in anger
and the tree fell, dying slowly, its glory fading
In their lofty freedom, the clouds above took no notice
but they fell and fell until finally
they hit the ground and rolled in the dirt
more humble than any servant
flowing ever down and down into the ocean
to be tugged to and fro by the moon
which dwells below the untouched stars
But one of those fiery spheres
glows with fatal brightness
ending its life in a final blaze of glory
and then is seen no more
Out, out, brief candle!
so ephemeral.... so fleeting
the specter of power can be caught
but never held

I have no idea where the inspiration for this poem came from. I tried to write it in study hall (in school) one day, but when that period ended, so did the poem, somewhere in the middle. So finally, I just got to my computer and typed in whatever came to me.
And yes, I did steal "Out out, brief candle!" from Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

Recently, we read a poem in English class. It seems Percy Bysshe Shelley beat me to the theme:

Ozymandias
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.

Ozymandias

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.

(There used to be a comments form here. However, having seen what I get when I make it easy to comment, that form has been indefinitely suspended. I can still be reached by email at <loonxtall@hotmail.com>. I apologize for any inconvenience.)

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