DEATH AS A GIFT.

DEATH AS A GIFT – A FORTIORI ARGUMENT.


(Jibril) further said in the name of Rab: What is the meaning of the verse. He hath made everything beautiful in its time? It teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, made every man's trade seem fine in his own eyes. PETER MAJOR said it agrees with the popular saying: Hang the heart of a palm tree on a pig, and it will do the usual thing with it.

 The whole world was built to last the threshes of time.
All creatures inherited a set scheme of things, ordained and designed to outlast the limits of time.
Man therefore, created purposely, is heir of all he can see, he is imperishable.

And so to they who shall possess full comprehension of what there is, death shall not overtake them. This is the gift.

What is death? A slippage in time where all folk are weighed down through disappearance of their loved ones in a continuous series called after life.

The epitome of achievement of an apple tree is a dangling apple fruit, how much more that of one worthier than a tree? But now suppose a hoard of elephants shook some down and trampled them underfoot? Is there loss recorded against the tree? NO. The producers are perfect & focused in their production, perpetually.

Even so, man is of the same perpetuity in the chore of things, living through hardships (elephants trampling down apples), renewing his goal with every new sunrise.
In sleep he is at rest, in what they fear most death, they are at rest.

Man is the pinnacle of achievement to the gods. 

With or without their affirmations they fulfill the will of forces that be. Co-creators of the matrix so hard to be pieced.
The belligerent and arrogant child will get punishment as a reward.

The erroneous man will not see death as punishment, this is his reward. Why should he rest? 

Why would he be invited to the lounge of the victors? No, there shall be no rest for the wicked.

Exposed they shall be to the elements under nature’s command; Cold, heat, noise etc.

 Tossed side to side like excess baggage in whichever mode of transportation. 

He is condemned to an eternity living as a fugitive wherever he goes, a vagrant vagabond.

Not only is this culpable through murder but even the slightest fraction of infringement upon another soul.
Justice is an act of addressing the issue to the littlest of matter.

Cain pleads with God for some little rest from the vengeance sought by the blood he had spilled.
He becomes an alien, fraudulent data is his accessory, lest he be an exposed alien and the people bay for his blood. This is in consequence to the cry for vengeance by blood he oppressed.



It is a terrible affair to commit murder, worse it is to spill innocent blood on soil.
It is not a good thing to betray our friends, it becomes worse when we do it for a price.

(I asked them to name my price or forbear: 30 pieces of silver they offered for me)

A tag can be put on a chicken neck, can the same be done for a man? NO.
The men who have taken bribes to lay low lives of fellow men are in for a rude shock.
Soon as old age deceives them to write wills leaving blood money to be inherited by their people, the lightning thunderbolt of God strikes.

The voice of the spirit leaves them, and once robust shouting young men become dumb toothless old weak men. Though they want to opine, the matter only rests within their bossoms.
Hands too weak to write, scribbling knowledge is fled from them.
Once voluptuous lungs taking in gas can only exhale like that of a new born child.
An old v8 engine is reduced to a motor, shell of its former self.


And finally on the day they fall, they are interred inside the best of wood, cedars from Lebanon.
In their protestation, that they be left on their warm beds to rest, only their perished selves know this matter. Before the eyes of the worlds they are termed the dead. Fatal conclusion.
Indeed they are dead, for they will be locked in prisons, crying not to be lowered 6 feet below, but cries on that day shall fall on deaf ears.

I tell you the truth, every good or bad man is alive well and kicking inside that casket.
The good ones are in never ending joy, the checkered flag in sight.

They that persisted in evil will call out from their hospital beds that the cables be left intact, but the nurse on duty shall relay to the doctor, “He ceased breathing at 5 AM” That’s the time recorded in heaven as the day they fell.




There, they are inside their former selves, vigorous as young stallions, but that vision is denied to those that see them. They will now look to themselves as objects of scorn, they worshipped themselves and adored their images more than they did for anyone else. The mirror will be taken away on that day.
 

The requirement still is to love our neighbour as ourselves, these men will lay in hospital beds to be whisked away to the cold frost that man created, the morgue. Every step the doctor pushes the cart to the world of the condemned, the cry of the man on the stretcher grows louder and louder. But to whom will the wicked man cry to? His wickedness will condemn him, his righteousness not sufficient to save him. Whisked away to be placed in ice, later in wood then if lucky in cement.

The man becomes an unseen spirit. He is one with the iblees kind, where they are of divided opinion like the sons of men forever. But this man’s spirit has bred outside righteousness.


Now then, his voice of crying will never cease, he shall never die so that he will never stop to cry. A cry that no ear shall hear except that of their maker. Who has so purposed his creation that everyman may reap that which he sowed.  
For if men were allowed to harvest that of their neighbours, the chaos would be manifold on land.

This is the pit where the dead go. There is no pit.

A land of utter darkness. Where there is only weeping and mourning and gnashing of teeth.
Death is a gift to the righteous sons and daughters of men. An earned rest from all lifetime toil.
Some men are more at rest in death than others just as some are more at ease in life than others.
Life is not predestined, History is.
So then, what’s past, death in this argument, is prologue.