Let it be known — in the year of the unraveling, when the seal of the high court was broken not by sword nor signature but by a single climbing tendril — that the chambers of jurisprudence and the chambers of chlorophyll were declared to be one and the same. The marble was found insufficient. The verdict, overgrown.
The court records, set in lead and wax, were rendered illegible by a slow, patient green. Where formerly stood the bench of judges, there grew a thicket. Where the prosecutor declaimed, a fern unfurled its first frond. The clerks took their dictation in the language of new shoots and root-pressure.
It is hereby decreed: every column shall be permitted its crack, every statute its erosion. The conservatory governs by the slow law of growth, and we — we the supplicants — shall stand witness to the patient sentencing of stone.