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Let us descend into our underground world (continued)

ook at these roses, how aromatic and beautiful they are, and how their downy chests smile amorously at the sunrays, whisper with them amiably and kiss them silently.

Have the Armenian girls ever visited these roses to congratulate them for their luminous inclinations? Look at these beautiful temples.  What architectural beauty demolished by the impact of time.

Time and science...How everlastingly parallel they are.

Can’t you see parallelism between these ruins and theological meditations? How expressive is that parallelism?

It is, now, time to build new temples on new foundations with new architectural ideas and principles.

The new temples should be built upon the indestructible scientific foundation.

You said scientific indestructible foundation:  But science is not indestructible. With new discoveries we destroy the older ones and build the new ones...

The new Faith and the new temples will continue to stay unharmed for a certain time under the many critical storms of civilization, but the spirit of science will remain indestructible.

Its constant move toward the discovery of perfect laws may greatly affect philosophical theories.

We can say science can direct the philosophical thoughts and control their meditations.

Look at the chemical, physical and astronomical works done in Armenia. All those create new spirit and new Faith.

The temple of this new Faith is not going to be built with cement and timbers. Its walls will be composed of the Armenian mountains, with the blue sky overhead as its ceiling and the new spirit of Faith and Temple, Armenia proper, everlasting.”

Diavolos silently looked at me, smiling, then murmured... “I think both of us passed the limit. Let’s have a drink.

You have never been here before but you may have imagined it.”

“What is this?”...I asked, seeing a group of nude girls scattered around in the vineyard drinking something in the glasses held in their hands.

But why are they drinking, when they themselves are respirable inspiration?

We went over there and joined them. They already knew us so there was no need of presenting ourselves to them. An embrace with the nudes followed. 

“You’re acting as if we are unknown to one another”, said one of them called Nounig.

I, who in my entire life had never drunk wine, started to drink with Nounig. Everything, instead of getting foggy looking, became brilliant and unusually beautiful. The panorama spread before me.

“Drink, Sempad,...drink”... exclaimed Diavolos with eyes reddened from the wine. “I know you are thirsty..you come from the desert.  Drink and don’t be afraid that your mind will become cloudy. Fog and clouds disappear from the smell of wine, your imagination’s flight will be stronger and an unknown voice will come to your ears, from infinity.”

“It’s strange that only women are naked here and not the men”, I murmured.

“The men are naked too, but we can’t see their nakedness.  Only the women can. Isn’t that right my dear?” Said Diavolos to his girl friend, laughing.

“What made you come over here my dear?” Asked Nounig. “You still belong to the other  world, to the territory of Moush. You smell the soil.  The soil of your cultivated land.”

“You’re right”, I said.  “I am a newcomer, a tourist, but how I wish to become one of you.”  

“Someday, you will come as a permanent resident.”  

“Will I ever meet you...and live with you?” I asked.

“Yes! Of course. We are an inseparable pair. Am I not your own dream?”

“Ah...How glad I am to hear those words from your mouth: I love you, Nounig”...

“It isn’t I who you love. You love yourself.  Am I not the essence of your soul...a fragment of it...I am you and you are me...two coexistent forces.  Sexual instincts are connected to them as a secondary force, a feeble connecting force. If that were the only connecting force between us, it would be a very feeble and insufficient entity.  It can’t give your imagination feather to fly with the eagles toward floating clouds.  It keeps you in his arms trembling from uncontrollable forces and going down, down toward the enchanted sleep.

Do you want to fly? Here is my chest. Suck my exhilarating milk, the vin blanc in order to change your terrestrial organism and fly toward the blue and starlit sky.

In the immense space, there are places where the human or other beings don’t know what family is, what country is, what nation is and what social laws are.

Over there, short-lived satisfaction doesn’t exist. Everything is fresh and lively...smiles, laughter, kisses, love of flight, celestial concerts...and radiant dreams.

Lay your head on my chest, press your face upon my breasts and open your eyes to new and unknown horizons and a new and unknown world. From the colorful roses and pastures an intoxicating music spread all over. Streams play amiably with the rays of the sun, romantic creations from unknown poets dance gracefully with the hushed wind...everlasting struggle between positive and negative forces.

Feelings flowing from my milk are always fresh and warm.

You probably can’t understand mentally...you can’t because the human organism is built in such a way that the first impression is fresher and stronger than the second or third, or...

You can’t imagine that the quality of an impression repeated a thousand times can have the same strength and freshness as the original, because you are still connected with the other world above.

We have already preserved your speaking ability. There are places very, very far from here where beings are deprived of their speaking ability and their mental activities can probably be seen once and be interpreted. There are no secrets for them. Everything is plain and open, everything is open and evident.

It is possible to consider those beings as mental pictures deprived of individuality.”

“That’s enough...Let’s drink...” said Nounig, smilingly, and took me in her arms.

When thousands of beings were celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the Independence of Armenia a dark and enervated cloud now began to recite an epic poem of his own creation. “How can one cooperate with blood thirsty criminals and make him become an ally to our sublime dreams?”

“How can we neglect the noble cause of our Armenian brothers and become silent to the cries of one and a half million massacred friends of ours?” cried one from the World’s Council of Justice.

Silence...a deep silence reigned all over... and from the heartless hearts a  sarcastic smile covered the faces, neglecting to hear the voice of justice.  A Christian leader of Christian Europe got up from his seat, silently approached the Turk, stopped in front of him amiably, and, with a tender smile, shook his hand.

The multitude of spirits crowding the banks of the Aradzani river cried out angrily...”Shame!...Shame!...you criminals...you Christian criminals.”

The army, with its machine guns, artillery and airforce began to move toward Armenia.

While the Christian fathers hypocritically were praying for the salvation of Armenia, churches were organizing festivities for the victory of their criminal forces.
 
“Hey!  Godless Heaven...Why did you mislead us with your senseless prayers to destroy the pagan temples and build churches on their ruins?” was heard from everywhere.

To surpass the help given to the criminals, Stalin approached silently and laid a kiss upon the forehead of the Turk and with a diabolical smile on his face, made him the loathsome owner of Mount Ararat.

The festivity of the fiftieth anniversary became stormy and a voice from the depth of the underground world screamed!

“Why did you offer Ararat to the Turks?”
 

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. Thus, befouling the pure spirit of communism, our underground world began boiling like a stormy sea and our mountains, with hands grasped together around Ararat, began to dance excitedly with their invincible decision to conquer it.

Courtecy of Arsen Shahnazarian 
The son of Sempad Shahnazarian

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Updated 7 June, 2000 ..
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