Yes, you
are right, I am no architect. I am not the builder of a new temple.
Not to me was it given to raise from the earth to the heavens the
glorious structure of the coming faith. I am one who digs dung, soiled
by the smut of destruction. But my conscience tells me, son of Cronos,
that the work of one who digs dung is also necessary for the future
temple. When the time comes for the proud and stately edifice to stand
on the purified place, and for the living divinity of the new belief
to erect his throne upon it, I, the modest digger of dung, will go to
him and say: 'Here am I who restlessly crawled in the dust of
disavowal. When surrounded by fog and soot, I had no time to raise my
eyes from the ground; my head had only a vague conception of the
future building. Will you reject me, you just one, Just, and True, and
Great?'"
Silence and astonishment reigned in the spaces. Then Socrates raised
his voice, and continued:
"The sunbeam falls upon the filthy puddle, and light vapour, leaving
heavy mud behind, rises to the sun, melts, and dissolves in the ether.
With your sunbeam you touched my dust-laden soul and it aspired to
you, Unknown One, whose name is mystery! I sought for you, because you
are Truth; I strove to attain to you, because you are Justice; I loved
you, because you are Love; I died for you, because you are the Source
of Life.
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