In agreement a thousand violins begin to play, the orchestra joins in. Amidst the much cacophony and tumult of the moment a solitary figure emerges, hands raised, a sign of solemnity. The orchestra is silenced, an oratory is begun, and the message of truth goes out to all who are present and of right mind, its unadulterated meaning clear (nothing is obtuse, all is revealed and there is no misunderstanding).
Some among the witnesses feel compulsively drawn to the truth, others are completely revulsed, still more simply shake their heads in disbelief and outright refuse to acknowledge message or meaning. The figure lowers it arms, stage fades to black, the curtain closes. As the throng disperses, in the orchestra pit instruments are put away. Ushers begin their secondary duties leaving the area empty of refuse. The only debris now are false notions and imperfect arguments (the majority shattered, seemingly beyond repair).
In the meantime, a remnant begin to witness to others not present as the performance played out, and the message is spread (speaker to hearer, and again). The truth becomes increasingly diluted to the point it is barely recognizable, until its final end appears will liken to that of all truths which enter into the ear, close to becoming lost altogether. It becomes a hearsay, joining in succession a long line of traditions and dogma, until eventually only myth remains. Yet in every myth, there yet remain grains of the truth, either embedded in the fossil record or else buried between the lines in new tales of morality and immorality, eventually emerging impaled upon the hearts of those able to hear, ignored or else condemned by the deaf or otherwise dying (all become critiques). Somewhere in time, another performance is scheduled and history repeats itself.
Then I commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the sun, than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry: for that shall abide with him of his labor the days of his life, which God gives him under the sun.
- Ec 8:15