Sword of Aquarius
a romantic political tragedy novel by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
Volume 7 of the 12-volume series, The Lodging for the Rose

Page 84
Chapter 12 - Project USA.

      "Now you're getting silly," Sylvia scolded me gently. "It's not right to be making fun of such a deeply serious issue."

      "Who is making fun?" I replied with a grin. "Tell me, who is more truly alive in our world right now, today, of all the people I will mention? Is it Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, or Socrates, Plato, Christ Jesus, Gauss, Leibniz, Mary Baker Eddy, Schiller, LaRouche, or Prometheus? This is to mention just a few."

      Sylvia couldn't answer me.

      "Of course you can't answer me," I said to her, "because nobody can tell me that they are not all alive in my heart and soul. That proves my point," I said and grinned.

     

      The truth of the matter is that we both felt more awake and alive, because of our new and more infinite marriage celebration that has been carried into the sphere of infinity indeed. By the time we reached Salt Lake City we felt refreshed and invigorated, rather than worn out by all the driving. Something was in the air that had made this journey through the desserts rich, vital, and beautiful. Was this a foretaste of things to come? Sylvia agreed that it might be. She also said that it would be natural that this was so.

      I suggested to Sylvia that none of this comes about on its own, but is the culmination of the visions and the daring of many people, the result of trials and agonies, of failures and triumphs, and of some people's extraordinary loving. And so it should be, because truth isn't something that one finds in a museum, but in life, born out of struggles, agonies and victories, as we become honest with ourselves in our scientific search for reality."

      Sylvia and I were in complete agreement on this, with each other, and this agreement was once again sealed with a kiss and a hug.

      "You were wrong on only one point," said Sylvia after our embrace had ended. "You were wrong when you told me in Washington when all this began, that your love for me would always be on top of the heap. It didn't turn out that way, did it? It wasn't possible, because in the domain of love hierarchical concepts simply become invalid. If love is God's standard as the most leading edge thinkers say, then love bears the nature of the absolute that embraces all in its infinite fullness."

      I agreed of course. "Still, I was right, Sylvia, in what I said," I said to her, "when I promised you that you would live above the clouds and touch the stars and be on top of the heap," I replied with a smile. "I just didn't tell you that you wouldn't be alone there, that you would share that lofty place with the whole of humanity. That's the natural result when one reaches the sublime."



      As it was, this observation earned me another kiss. I suggested in turn that having an ice cream cone would also be nice, which was a tradition that went way back with us, a tradition that we didn't have to share with the whole of humanity.

      "Oh, we're not having tea on such an occasion?" Sylvia replied and grinned.

      "No, this cause for a real celebration. Well never reach a point when this becomes an ordinary thing. It will always be special. This is something big, something that's possible to celebrate forever," I replied. "Tea won't do."

      "But why should we limit ourselves to just an ice cream cone, then," she replied and grinned. "Let's have the works, with whipping cream, bananas, and chocolate sauce..."

      "And strawberries on top, and sweet waffles," I added.

      "What a way to celebrate our future!" she added and grinned.


The End

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