Ozymandias (Powerful Poetry)

This is my favourite poem. Underlying it is the question: How do you want to be remembered? Second to this question is a powerful reminder that Father Time will catch up with all of us eventually, and no matter what good or bad anyone did in their life, ultimately, in the end, it will all be forgotten. So does the first question even matter anyway?

Transcript

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.