Member Poem

The Colossus stands as a regal glimpse
to that which may be rightly cast away.
And though we shudder to think
what fortunes may arise
on the brink of convergence
on the final, unknown day,
the Colossus stands as it has, always.
Cast off and built again,
destroyed and resculpted
to fit the image, in vain,
of every long shadow of age unto age.
And shudder, we will,
at our fortunes, our fate,
left to ourselves when the Colossus has fallen.
And shudder, still we will, in the shadow, rebuilt,
as our fate for ourselves,
our purpose, self-made,
is made to build again the long shadow,
long cast to the wind,
to cast its gaze upon our fate.