Thursday, September 3, 2015

In the dark hour of breavement and grief by Robert Ingersoll(Oration at a Child's Grave)

Music:ala mari zaman

In the dark hour of breavement & grief:
(Oration at a Child's Grave)
Robert Ingersoll

MY FRIENDS: I know how vain it is to gild a grief with
words, and yet I wish to take from every grave its fear.
Here in this world, where life and death are equal kings,
all should be brave enough to meet what all have met.

The future has been filled with fear, stained and polluted by
the heartless past. From the wondrous tree of life the buds
and blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and in the common bed
of earth patriarchs and babes sleep side by side.

Why should we fear that which will come to all that is?
We cannot tell. We do not know which is the greatest blessing,
life or death. We cannot say that death is not good.
We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life
or the door of another, or whether the night here is not
somewhere else a dawn.

Neither can we tell, which is the more fortunate, the child dying
in its mothers arms before its lips have learned to form a word,
or he who journeys all the length of life's uneven road, painfully
taking the last slow steps with staff and crutch.

Every cradle asks us "Whence?" and every coffin "Whither?"
The poor barbarian weeping above his dead can answer the question as intelligently and satisfactorily as the robed priest of the most authentic creed. The tearful ignorance of the one is just as consoling as the learned and unmeaning words of the other.

No man standing where the horizon of a life has touched a grave has any right to prophesy a future filled with pain and tears. It may be that death gives all there is of worth to life. If those who press and strain against our hearts could never die, perhaps that love would wither from the earth.

May be a common faith treads from out the paths between our hearts the weeds of selfishness, and I should rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not.
Another life is naught, unless we know and love again
the ones who love us here.

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