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.