This is my world, I own all that is within it.
For I have forged my own space and made my own way.
Who may enter my world; who may stand in my universe?
Only the one whom I decide is worthy.
The one who meets my standards and does not pollute my life.
The one who agrees with me and holds true to my beliefs.
I will bless them and encourage them.
I will fight for their right to be just like me.
I will close up my gates and barricade my doors.
No one shall enter except those I approve.
I am king of my world and I am glorious.
I will cocoon myself in the castle of my life.
For I am king of my world and I am glorious.
I wrote this selfish version of Psalm 24 for use in our Contemplative Service this past weekend. While writing it I was reminded of the poem Ozymandias by Percy Shelley, one of my favorites. The Psalm sounds like something Ozymandias would say.
I met a traveler 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