Before Ozymandias I stood
In the sand. The winds whispered my name;
I was goddess, I was queen, I am
Forgotten, a fragmented memory
Of something so sweet, so carnal, so right.
I was hunter, I was daylight, I am
Nothing, now known as a statuette
Of granite, so small, stable, contained.
Where is the river? Where is the sand?
Where are my people? Where is my land?
Water dries, people die, land is lost.
My crown sat atop a golden mane
And glowed so bright I don’t understand
How time has washed away who I am.