The balance of the scales outweighed
By the uplifted sword? Unflinching
She sits, wielding both without favour.
There is no contradiction to offer
If the scales tip, the balance tilts,
Equilibrium shifts like equinoctial light -
A quickening step past a half-way point
As life’s pen is dipped in different ink;
Another story begun, as priorities weigh
Differently in the scales and her sword
Falls to trim new pages upon which
The words of your verdict may be written.
Or perhaps there is no movement,
Only stasis, the predictable poise
Of a life contained by fixed horizons?
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Note that Waite re-assigns this card to Number Eleven in the sequence,
interchanging it with Fortitude which he places here.