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Cloaks of Presumption

Three Steps to the Bench. 	Three steps.

Enrobed in black, as though to mourn their sorry role,
The Judges Ascend

Somberly attired, as if grieving their dastardly work,
The Judges Ascend 

In the most solemn garb, as if wishing an epitaph to their horrific duties,
The Judges Ascend

They are charged, with a terrible task:

To decide the life of a man.

How presumptuous!
How utterly unjust!

To dare suppose that one man may hold himself-

As the skies hold themselves over the earth.

As the mountains hold themselves over the plains.

As the trees hold themselves over the grasses. 

As if one man may be endowed- by yet other men-to execute an impossible role.

To be appointed to the august role of arbiter of life and death.

To assume, in all its omnipotence, the job of Providence. 

An impossible task to fulfill.

Under those black cloaks rest not the administrator of Justice, but rather, the personage, in all its horror- of Satan.

Holding themselves as a welcome respite from cruel tyranny-
These men are in truth even further sunk in the abyss of injustice.

To enrobe oneself in the grand tapestry of Democracy, all the while being as detestable as a nominal despot.

These solemn robes-stained with the indelible guilt of a thousand lives-incapable of being judged, shroud those who shall soon, in all their invincible omniscience, issue the verdict.

Somewhere, a gavel bangs.
The Trial has begun.

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