Poem - Obeisance to Radamanthus.

I saw a horse standing in a field calm and relaxed,

I envied it.

In this octopus life my tentacles gripping needless things

I wave my soul goodbye, floating on top of life.

money, taxes, rules, conventions, things of no consequence.

Snorri Sturluson’s voice still heard,

the butcher, breadmaker and blacksmith down his street disappeared.

Life is lived in the leaving behind , all else is as Ozymandias

but the monkeys stand with money bowls

shiny trinkets piled up acorn like to winter pay

not for the crossing to the Underworld

or in obeisance to the harshest judge

but spent and squandered

now only baying and crying and begging, be not so Radamanthine

Radamanthus

. .. 

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.