Colossus struck from ancient stone,
broke holdover of eons lost,
you list beside this waterway,
immobilized, anonymized,
half-mythical, if mystified,
considered insignificant
because no one here breathes your name.

Which mysteries must you possess?
What histories could you confess?
Who looked to you beneath the night
or fled your heavy gaze with fright
or sought your favors in a fight?
Did you command their pantheon
or flummox someone's Babylon?

What did those chiselled eyes behold?
Which destinies would those hands mold?
Were you a cruel or caring sire?
Who should you rile or inspire,
condemn by ice, consign to fire?
Were you resigned to fade so fast,
or might you rise back from the past?