The wind beats. I gaze, horrified. It's absurd to see, yet it's clearly there.
None. An endeavour of folly of a frightening kind.
Stateliness, power, such things require a crown. The uncrowned is creepy. The crown with its weight keeps under control the magnitude of the work. Provides mortals with proportion. Take it off, and it's unnerving: its size, extent, incomprehensibility.
The implements we use secretly stare at us, maliciously gloating at our lack of perception, hidden in plain sight.