pride before a fall

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.”

Shelley's poem, Ozymandias, came oddly, into my head, while I was swimming laps this morning. I think it emerged from a conversation I had had minutes before with another swimmer, who was reflecting on the pointlessness of NYE, with it's inevitable anti-climax of fake cheer and plastic optimism. Well, maybe that's my spin on the event and what he said. But it could be a time of genuine reflection, a weighing of where we are and where we might be going. There's no reason why it cant be fun either.

It's just that the huge collision of booze and fireworks gets in the way and becomes the whole thing. I'm pretty optimistic by nature and love seeing people enjoying themselves. I just wonder if there could be more to it.

Happy 2013, however you say it!