Ozymandias
A bit more blogging.
My grandmother is probably going to die soon. I know this, she knows this, my family knows this, and even though she has no major health problems it is clear that her lifestyle is soon going to get the best of her.
The weird thing is, I'm not sad. I think of her dead, and I know her and care about her plenty. She can get on my nerves, but she's family. I just seem to have come to terms with her dieing already. It's very strange. I see her sitting in her chair and my mind wanders to what that chair will look like when nobody sits in it anymore. I think about my future self, remembering the image of her in her chair.
I don't even feel guilty about this, and I know she would understand. I like to believe there is some life after death, or at least peace. This has also got me thinking of my own mortality. Today I was observing my backyard and realizing that everything I see will someday pass into nothingness. The trees, the rocks, the people I talked to today... and of course me. Everything dies, and I think I'm alright with that.
Here's one of my favorite poems, it's relevant:
OZYMANDIAS
By Percy Bysshe Shelly (1792-1822)
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.
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Somber day for me.