The Celtic peoples, like no other people on Earth, understand the value of the lament. When all hope of a better world is lost with the dreams of peace and prosperity revealed to be the sinister sleight of hand of some unseen ethereal conjuror, when the curtain is lifted and the face of the cosmic trickster revealed, his mocking laughter ringing clearly throughout the hall, All the world is a stage, and you have been taken in by the play, then there is the lament. Entropy, once accepted, is no longer an enemy, only a cue that we should don our shroud and look skyward, to sing the ancient and sentimental songs of our ancestors and to be grateful that, once upon a time, honor, virtue and decency were held sacred. Rot is an inevitability. All things vile and putrid will eventually hold sway. Let us not welcome them with so much as a moments notice, but revere those who sought to forestall the decay. The broken soul cannot rejoice, but may quietly lament and, at least in part, drown the conjurors sardonic laughter.
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 19:00:57 +0000
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