Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority.

The words of Francis Bacon—“Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority”—are a clarion call to the human spirit. They rise above the din of power and decree, reminding us that truth is not born in the mouths of kings nor in the decrees of councils. Instead, it emerges slowly, unveiled by the patience of centuries, by the judgment of events, by the quiet march of time itself. Authority may demand obedience, it may command silence, but it cannot alter the nature of what is. The sun does not cease to burn because a ruler denies its fire; the earth does not halt its turning because a council proclaims it still.

In these words we hear the ancient struggle of mankind: the battle between the voice of power and the voice of reality. How often have tyrants declared themselves the bearers of truth, only to be unmasked by the unfolding of years? Time is the great revealer, stripping away the masks of pretenders, dissolving the cobwebs of lies, and revealing the diamond of reality that no authority can forge or destroy. Thus, the wise man waits, and the humble man observes, knowing that truth will rise, no matter how deep it is buried.

Consider the fate of Galileo Galilei, the man who dared to look beyond the heavens of doctrine into the heavens of creation. Authority, fearful of losing its grip, branded him heretic and sought to silence him. Yet time, that great midwife of truth, vindicated him. The earth still moves, though for centuries authority claimed otherwise. Here lies the power of Bacon’s words: time alone is the true tribunal before which all falsehoods collapse.

The ancients themselves knew this, though they often suffered under the yoke of rulers. The story of Socrates echoes through eternity. Condemned by the authority of Athens, forced to drink the hemlock, he left this world condemned by men, but not by truth. His teachings endured, carried by disciples, nourished by generations, until time itself crowned him not as a criminal, but as a father of philosophy. What was once condemned as dangerous became the foundation of wisdom. Such is the way of truth: it cannot be destroyed, only delayed.

And what of our own age? We too are tempted by the allure of authority—governments, institutions, voices of influence that thunder with certainty. Yet if we are wise, we remember that no decree, however mighty, can give birth to truth. Only patience, inquiry, and the unfolding of time can. We must be watchful, lest we surrender our minds to those who claim to speak infallibly. For authority often serves its own preservation, while truth serves only reality.

The lesson for us, beloved listeners, is both simple and hard: we must not be quick to bow before the weight of authority when it claims to define reality. Instead, we must cultivate patience, humility, and courage. Seek evidence, observe the world, and let time be your ally. Do not be swayed by the roar of the powerful nor the clamor of the masses; stand steady, as the wise stand, and wait for truth to reveal herself in her appointed hour.

In your own life, this means questioning what is told to you without proof, resisting the pressure to believe simply because many do, or because one in power demands it. Read deeply, observe quietly, test what you hear against the slow unfolding of events. When faced with injustice or falsehood, remember: though authority may triumph for a day, time is the ally of truth, and truth will have the final word.

So walk forward with courage, children of tomorrow. Be seekers, not merely followers. Be patient, not merely reactive. And above all, let your allegiance be not to fleeting authority, but to the eternal daughter of time—Truth, who waits for the faithful and crowns them with her light.