I lifted my gaze up to the steep hillsides again and cried. I cried for the pains of humanity that had no reason for being. Suddenly, the temples and churches were no longer monuments of coldness, but had become palaces of infinity, representing the truth and the power of understanding. They had become palaces of universal knowledge, universities.

      At this moment I noticed a fork in the river that I had not seen before. A narrow branch flowed out of a gorge that led deep into the mountains between rock-ribbed walls that echoed the call of wild cranes. I shouted to the captain, "Change course! Follow this path!" I saw that the branch of the river that flowed out of the mountains flowed smoothly, indicating a deep draught while the river ahead was white with shallow waters. But the captain said no. He said the tourist director was in charge and had commanded to go straight on.

      "I am the director of myself, I can swim," I replied to the captain. I replied cautiously. At first I replied only to myself, then I began shouting it strongly to the captain; and immediately I jumped into the water. Everyone on the boat shouted, "come back, you can't do that!"

      "Hey, I just did," I shouted back, and started to swim towards the canyon.

      I swam the entire length of the canyon, effortlessly overcoming the flow of its slow moving current. In fact, I found the swimming invigorating. When the river widened behind the gorge that had opened up into a valley, I saw the familiar draw gate again. This time its inscription read; "Divine Science encompassing the universe and man; metaphysics taking the place of physics."

      "Let me pass," I called to the gatekeeper as I climbed out of the water.

      He shook his head. "This land has a law..." he started to say, holding his hand up to hold me back.

      "I know all that," I interrupted. "You must let me pass, because I have earned my way across, I am no longer that empty inside that I do not know myself as a human being. There is no need for you to hold me back."

      The gatekeeper looked at me, surprised, then nodded in agreement. "But you must return to the temple. Whatever love you find in this land shines resplendent only by what you bring to it, within yourself. You require this Inner Light, for the journey is immensely great beyond the gate."

      He pointed to the inscription on the gate. "Do you know what divine Science is?" he asked. "It is the science of our divinity as human beings. It is your gate to infinity. You must pass through this gate again and again, and discover your divinity. There is no finity beyond this gate."

      I said that I promised to return and do as he had told.

      "See that you do," the gatekeeper said. "If you don't, you will be tempted to climb the great mountain for the majesty of the view that it offers, and you will be tempted to write to all the world of its grandeur. But your work will be empty if it is not aglow with universal love and universal sovereignty, and be of no use to anyone, but becomes a prison. An empty philosophy becomes a prison for humanity. You don't want to become a prison keeper, do you? Then people would call on you and demand that you teach them your new vision, and you will shackle and snare them with your dreams that have nothing to do with reality. You will tell them that there is no truth in anything, because without the divinity of love, truth cannot be recognized. You will cripple them with expectations that you deprive them of the means to grasp. And you will find yourself proud to be pushing them in the wheelchairs of your creating. Unless you understand the nature of the science of the divinity of your love for your humanity, you'll be a babbling fool. So go on, but be aware not ever to loose sight of the divinity of love. Its light is your humanity. Go and start climbing to the last step, embrace the toil of your ascend through steaming jungles and across snow fields and ice, scaling tall cliffs, traversing walls of ice and snow...." He stopped.

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Stories about  Love from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche