It is the midnight hour, and there is no right or wrong;

nor is there sense, nor apathy.

At the midnight hour, only the Law is and merely the Law.

Any hour that came to pass before or that is meant to follow

has been exiled from the world by Law’s order.

And under the Law’s order, this world, which came

and went in riddle, did find a feather to present

to the ruler of the underworld’s kingdom.

So, when the heart of the world was placed

to weigh against the weight of such a feather,

the scales themselves denied any burden of choice,

threw up both heart and feather, and the beast ate the mess

as if there were no difference between eternal life and death

and no actual recompense.

But was it a miscarriage? Or was it a mistrial?

Does judgment truly matter?

At the midnight hour, there is no right or wrong;

at the midnight hour, only the Law is and merely the Law.

But was it a miscarriage? Or was it a mistrial?

Does it matter who did pass or how came to pass judgment?

And the Law does not listen to the cry of the heart

or to the fluttering of a feather, for the only justice

the Law knows and serves is measurement.

With many respects to the creatures and things

that live and toil upon the hours of the Earth

and strive so that only notice matters.

(From Poems. 2016-2018)