The Mighty Immortal

Irony in form, irony in language, and irony in the prevailing poem itself are all the ways that Percy Bysshe Shelly's poem "Ozymandia" could best be summed up. Starting with the very form of the poem about a king that ruled a great civilization and accomplished great and terrible works one would assume that such a king would have books and books written to record such works, but there are only fourteen lines that tell about this once great king. The lines are compact and never comprised of more than ten words. What greatness could possibly be summed up in so few words? So forgotten are the deeds of the ancient king and the kingdom he built that only a traveler who stumbled upon the crumbling engravings has any knowledge that either ever existed. The king boasts of his greatness and challenges anyone to look upon his accomplishments and to try to surpass what he has done, but now only a vast emptiness remains to replaced his works. What does the statue that is slowly falling to the decay of its environment; where the eyes, mouth and ears are slowly being covered up by the sands of time to never be known again, what does that say about our own futile existence? What work can we do that is so great that it will stand the test of time and will be remembered for the generation to come? The king called himself the "King of Kings", but there is only one King of Kings who is still remembered, worshiped and revered today. Ironically Jesus of Nazareth never wore a crown and never built towers and cities to honor his name. Perhaps the only works that live on after us and keep our name alive are the works of kindness and love towards our fellow man. While it is true that people remember the tyrant, they remember and revere those that fought against the tyrant. All tyrant builds will be pulled down and laid to waste and in their place monuments will be erected to depict those who fought against the oppressor.
The only things remaining of the great king and his accomplishments were his carved statue and the written words carved upon its base. Much like Shelly's poem where the words have not dimmed, perhaps the mighty immortal lies in the record of our deeds through the medium of art and the written language.