in parentheses

Poor colossus, why hang you over the river, seeking the dark a reflection obscure for your heart’s delusion, hoping for shadow to appear across the moving ripples of dimming light to bring you out the force who takes you away to light a candle of fear, waiting for the water who comes toward life to bring light no more, dreaming of the city at river’s end far from light of the city of confusion who walls every river’s path, quieting as the night turns life toward death as all lodestars charring a river’s path bend beyond this side of the world to carry others exit from time of sorrow in the highing tower, yearning the night’s most dark when all lights of fear weary away and along the strand there is only sound sound of the river’s awake, to raise Colossus, to follow the riverbend way into the dark