Asleep, the great titan of bygone day,
His strength once feared in even far-off lands,
And order imposed at his stern commands.
Now bald and palsied, and his beard gone gray,
He lies in the filth of his own decay.
Unconscious, though somehow he understands
That power has passed from his aged hands,
And all his best-laid plans have gone agley.
“Why shall I not rule forever!” he dreams
Of triumphs past. “Give me more migrants, more wars,
“More broken nations enslaved by my schemes,
Their sons my servants, their daughters my whores,
History’s End in a chorus of screams!”
Slumbering, he smiles. Decrepit, he snores.
Just for kicks, I had BardAI give it a try. It’s a bit on the pedestrian side and lacks some of the darkness of my effort, but it’s better than I expected.
With crumbling form and heavy, weary tread,
I stand, a colossus, on this stormy shore,
Once ruler of the world, my power spread,
My name a beacon in dominion’s core.
The seas once trembled at my mighty hand,
My armies marched in conquest, far and wide,
The world was mine to mold, to break, to brand,
With iron fist and vision undenied.
But time has worn my glory to the dust,
My reign has crumbled, like a fading dream,
The world has turned its back, my power crushed,
My name a whisper in the realm of gloom.
In dreams I see the world I once controlled,
A vision of my power, long since cold.
