An Operetta de Shock
In V Unnatural Acts
With a Prologue and an Epilogue
Edited By
David P. Kovacs
First Edition June 16 1987
Second Edition April 1 2025
Copyright (C)
Arthur George McMaster, 1987
All Rights Reserved
Published (P)
Arthur George McMaster, 1987
Printed in Canada
Any arrangement or adaption of this composition without the consent of the Owner is an
infringement of copyright. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or
any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the
Owner.
All Rights controlled and administered by Arthur George McMaster
Preface
Rarely, in the evolution of mankind, does one discover a new work of art, that can truly be
heralded as "One Of The Ultimate Classics", such is this masterpiece of experience, "The
Christ Offer". This remarkable perfection harmoniously combines all facets of the arts
to present a revelation that will once again entertain, astound, enlighten and shock the minds of
man. My only wish is that I had been its creator. Arthur George McMaster has attained
the profoundest level of excellence for aesthetically valuable human activity, and I regard
this divine artist in the highest esteem as my fellow alternative.
God
Reprinted by permission from a testimony by this professional critic who is world renown
for his personal sense of righteousness.
Table of Content
The Prologue
Act I Scene I
Act I Scene II
Act I Scene III
Act II Scene I
Act II Scene II
Act II Scene III
Act III Scene I
Act III Scene II
Act III Scene III
Act III Scene IV
Act IV Scene I
Act IV Scene II
Act IV Scene III
Act V Scene I
Act V Scene II
The Epilogue
The Christ Offer - The Prologue
Narrator:
[ Empty, cold and dimly lit, the theatre offers its barren attitude. A single actor, Mandrol,
enters from the right, and walks to the centre of the stage. Abruptly, a column of white
light is focused, illuminating the characters' absence of expression. The figure is that of
a clean-shaven middle-aged man wearing faded blue jeans and a pale white tee-shirt. The
hand gives a cue for the music to begin, the minstrel, Mandrol, sings "Facade". ]
[ Facade ]
Actors play is set to stage,
the babe has come with newborn rage.
Comedy or tragedy,
yet for the audience to see.
Action, melody and words,
to be a play on truth, absurd.
Madness was the break of day,
when set ye forth upon your play.
Soon one finds as most will do,
the foot is on the other shoe.
Shall you leap in others role,
to be secure in your new hole.
Shall you choose the easy route,
walk with sandal or with boot.
Shall you find the perfect way,
the quest of life, the answers say.
Pomp and circumstance will ring,
to us you seem supreme, the king.
Walk ye forth in pride of place,
less-lookers stare then bow each face.
Shout commands, unquestioned force,
the greying knight on shining horse.
Time and fate at last have caught,
the man of which they both have taught.
Idles are too short betrayed,
the linen's old and soon will fray.
Now we fear, by fright respect,
and love will fall as deeds defect.
Disbelief and discontent,
the cause of rising rule is bent.
Doubt will spy and quickly spread,
and questioned eyes ask, are you dead?
Oceans swell and bring earthquake,
and soon we cry for freedoms' sake.
Power that you once did hold,
is slowly shaken from the bold.
Strength decline and spirits low,
how long will staff protect you now?
Metals favour you have turned,
the dramas' saviour, be you burned.
Mirror's cold, what do you see,
a figure, ask, but is this me?
Are you tiger or the squirrel,
confusion spins your mind a whirl.
Why with life's long darkened eye,
attempt to spill the patterned lie?
Once the while, fear you the day,
when doubt you're not the man they say.
Now your journey's at it's end,
what have you left but wounds to tend.
Essence will but once call soothe,
but shall you follow natures truth.
Wind shall flare and you will know,
in which direction you should go.
Be amazed of sites you see,
renounce your all and come with me.
Knife of truth shall cut you deep,
but end results in presence leap.
Shed your deepest inner scales,
secure the mind with binding nails.
Let your skin slide off your bones,
the essence force of knowledge known.
Wisdom rolling in cascade,
no longer hide behind facade.
[ As the lights dim slowly Mandrol turns and exits to the left in silence. ]
The Christ Offer - Act I Scene I
Narrator:
[ As the morning sun rises over a scene of meadow green, natures melancholy counterpoint is heard
enhancing solar gratitude. A young lad dressed in green leggings and white ruffled shirt, peacefully
sleeps upon an old bench of iron and wood. Atop the crest sits a playful grey squirrel and a
black bird. All incumbent being watchfully shaded by a guardian oak tree to the right. Unbeknown
to innocent kind, a sinister black cat hides in the bushes to the left. Christopher awakens,
sits up and partially yawns, stretching his arms out slowly. ]
Christopher:
Ah-h-h, good morning dear blackbird and good morning to you, squirrel, a fine morning it is and
enhanced so by such loving creatures of nature. Look, look, how gloriously the sun rises to offer
its energy to support the birth of a new day. See how the triumphant columns of light pierce
through the clouds bringing life to the world, slowly, sleepily waking to the dawn. The dew
glistens from the greenery in the meadow and slowly evaporates away into the warm breeze.
Quaintly birds soar freely in the newborn sky, their melodies flow gaily to the appreciating
ear. Flowers joyously open their petals to meet the oncoming sun, expelling their pleasantly
sweet fragrance into the air. And you, old bench of iron and wood, must have seen centuries
turn before your presence. Your character is one of enduring time.
Oh, what a beautiful day, it must be a good sign. 'Tis a good feeling I have, finally the
absolute perfect day. This is the type of day for conjuring dreams. This day shall bring
love to my heart and answers to my brain. This day has started off on the right foot for
I know that all my expectations of this day will be fulfilled. This is a day to rejoice,
a day for pleasure and good happenings. A day of this like should well be celebrated
for 'tis my day, my birthday. Such a feast there shall be as to shake the world, and
all in my honour. There shall be dancing and singing, and oh, so much more. The utopian
jubilation of coronation, as I become a man. And you, my friends of nature are all
invited. I invite the entire universe. Come all, and all, and all as I stand, take up
my offer and share this wondrous day with me.
[ The orchestra strikes up a climatic fanfare and exhilaratingly Christopher sings
"Tiger Eye". ]
[ Tiger Eye ]
Tiger eye stand still before me,
essence light the way.
Bring about the knowledge of me,
to this greatest day.
Spark fast the flame to ignite me,
fortunes to my play.
Radiate the meaning of me,
in my mind to stay.
Grand parade of actors living,
in their roles, been cast.
Vision thoughts will be uncovered,
stimulate at last.
Wisdom shall arrive with mercy,
giving answers strong.
Blood of comb, flows like the honey,
settles right and wrong.
Animated maze of travel,
take me to the source.
Silhouette of recollections,
show me my own course.
Levitate my polished fixtures,
spirits should fly free.
Peak my dreams to ever be real,
glory yet to see.
From the birth of this day onward,
now I'll know to go.
In directions proclaimed fateful,
where the wind may blow.
Climax of my expectations,
now to be fulfilled.
Lovers justice of appearance,
delicately willed.
Animated maze of travel,
take me to the source.
Silhouette of recollections,
show me my own course.
Levitate my polished fixtures,
spirits should fly free.
Peak my dreams to ever be real,
glory yet to see.
Sanctions of natal offerings,
received to rejoice.
Growing hemispheres of reason,
coming of the voice.
The sun shines bright into my eyes,
it amazes me.
Glisten prisms, understanding,
my identity.
Narrator:
[ Christopher pauses a moment, gazing up into the sky in vision wonderment. The black cat
snarls and gets ready to pounce but the black bird flies off into the sky and the grey
squirrel scampers up the oak tree. The disgruntled cat withdraws into the bushes.
These actions go unnoticed by Christopher. The expression on the lads face changes as if an
alarming thought had just struck him like a bolt of lightning. The look is that of extreme
pain and confusion, liken to a hot iron amber burning in the back of the brain. His tone
of voice darkens. ]
Christopher:
From this day forth, I am a man. I am Christopher, I am eighteen, and I am a man. Oh, but
what kind of man am I? What does it mean to be a man? My feelings are the same as
yesterday. Where is the new warmth in my heart, the new answers in my brain, that I am
supposed to feel? I do not understand, I am just as confused as I was before. Where is
the knowledge of myself? What is the true meaning of man, the profound, the ultimate
knowledge of man's way? Oh, I had desperately hoped that there would be a change in me
from this day. I expected to be a man, to feel a man, to know what a man is. Many times
I have journeyed into my mind for the answer to my question, I think if I have to
travel any longer I will go mad. The search for this wisdom runs my mind in circles.
I still know nothing of the meaning of manhood or the meaning of me. I am eighteen
still I know not myself or my purpose as a man. I long so for an answer. Who am I?
Oh, it troubles me so.
Life was so much simpler in the days of my youth. Never a care or worry. It did not
matter who you were. Just to play and frolic, to and fro through melancholy marshes
was enough to know. Such an enjoyable time it was, when I used to chase butterflies
floating in the summer breeze, and catch frogs from the banks of sparkling waters.
To sit for hours on end gazing at fluffy clouds, making up little fantasies of
adventure. Oh, such wonderful times.
Why has the force of time changed things? Why? Oh, why cannot maturing be as simple?
How can such mixtures of seasonings make such an extraordinary change? Why is
confusion such a grave factor of this age, why does reason evade me? Is this
reality or am I dreaming? Who am I? I have asked this question of myself many
times, yet there is no answer, nothing.
[ Christopher sits on the bench resting his head in his palms. Disillusioned.
He stares at the ground in front of his feet. Suddenly, from out of nowhere,
a gruff voice shouts out to Christopher. ]
Mandrol:
Oh, Christopher, such a mind is yours that doth tear at its own bindings to find
an answer that is already known!
Christopher:
Who are you? Where are you?
Mandrol:
Up he-e-ere
[ Mandrol clumsily falls out of the oak tree to the ground with an immense
clamber. ]
Correction, down here.
[ Mandrol is tatteredly dressed in a bluish-grey cape, gown and pointed hat decorated with
faded white stars. His face is old and thickly wrinkled. His hair and beard are both
long and grey, along with eyebrows accenting his blood-shot eyes. Mandrol slowly stands,
his hand placed on his back to ease the pain. He bows respectfully. ]
Christopher:
Who are you?
Mandrol:
I am, I am, I am, Mandrol the magician, overlord of the universe, the all mighty grand-high
wizard. I was resting in yonder oak when I was so rudely awakened by such a fury of
bellowing as for the world to be shaken. You should have the common courtesy not to shout
out to the sleeping world around you. You insolent young lad, you should be ashamed of
yourself for such childish actions. Come hither and explain to me, what gives you cause
to do so.
Christopher:
'Tis my eighteenth birthday, yet I know not who I am or for what purpose I was born or for
what reason I do exist.
Mandrol:
Oh, 'tis simple, you were born to live and you live to be alive.
Christopher:
That is not enough of an answer. What is life without purpose or meaning? What is it to be
eighteen, to be a man? I want to make something of myself, I want to be someone, to know
myself. To know of what essences I am made up of. I want to know in which direction I
should travel. To know what is right and wrong for me. Oh, these things puzzle me to no
end. Is it possible to go through an entire lifetime and not know yourself?
Mandrol:
I dare say that many men have done just so, but I think that you, Christopher, are not one
of those many. I see within the stars great feats of accomplishment for you. Your
prospects for the future are most favourable. The stars say that you will rise high above
the crowds of peasants. You shall be the king of all kings and the orator of great
speeches that shall move the world with such an emotion as to behold. Your providence
shall be pronounced far and wide, to the farthest reaches of the universe. You shall
have the essences of all wisdom. You shall have the power to enlighten all men. You will
be so great. You only need faith in yourself, faith in what you are.
Christopher:
I can not have faith in myself when I do not even know who I am. How can I have faith in
nothing? You are an old fool who reads the stars sideways and receives an inverted
answer. What do you know of the stars except that you wear them in ridiculous fashion.
Your apparel is that of a clown. and what does a clown know of life except to make fun
and merriment, to help people forget their troubles. I do not wish to forget my
troubles, I wish to resolve them.
I think my state is hopeless. I will never know myself. I am nothing. I am destined to
live a life of endless ignorance of myself. Oh, how cruel to have fate dealt to me in
such a manner. The cards are not in my favour. What, oh, what have I done to deserve
such a miserable outcome. I feel as though all cause is lost. Nothing is left for me.
Nothing but death, the eternal timelessness. I cannot go on like this any longer.
Mandrol:
Oh, Christopher, do not think of such things. Your time shall come soon enough. Your
life is worth more than you can imagine. Put these thoughts out of your mind. They
belong to other like. Fret not over such trivialities as who is who or why is why
or what is what. As you said 'tis your birthday and it should well be celebrated.
You shall have your party, with all the fixings of joy and happiness. Come, let me
entertain you. We shall begin with the cards.
[ Mandrol reaches into his sleeve and withdraws an over-sized deck of cards. A look
of pride comes to his face. He spreads the cards out in his hands. ]
Please, Christopher, take a card. I am sure that you will be amazed beyond belief
at my tricks. Watch closely lest your eyes betray you. 'Tis also possible that your
mind will play the trick. Use your ears and nose to hear and smell the foul in my
illusion.
[ Christopher, with a look of despair, takes one card, examines it, then returns it
to the top of the deck. Mandrol attempts to shuffle the deck but the cards fly out
of his fumbling hands and fall to the ground. ]
Christopher:
You are nothing but an old fool, a mad jester, a fumbler of cards.
Mandrol:
Not a fool, Christopher, but my foolery, for I have fooled many men with my tricks.
You must observe well lest you be fooled.
[ The cards fly up into Mandrols sleeve. This trick goes unnoticed by Christopher. ]
Christopher:
It is of no use. I cannot find an answer to my problem if you insist on boring me
with your feeble attempts to amuse me with the cards.
Mandrol:
If not the cards, then strike up the music and let me sing in honour of your
birthday.
[ The Farce ]
Once in a while, you can see him smile,
Oh, but this is very rare.
Most of the time, he's out of his mind,
and he doesn't know he's there.
So if you see him,
please don't deceive him,
try to retrieve him.
Even though he's not aware.
La la la la, la la la la la,
La la la la la, la la la.
So when you're down, you don't have to frown,
you've got to do what you can.
Don't leave your head, sleeping in your bed,
you know a man is a man.
I've tried to reach you,
and tried to teach you,
I do beseech you.
You must try to understand.
La la la la, la la la la la,
La la la la la, la la la.
So hop on your jolly foot,
and dance around the maple.
First on your left,
and then on your right.
Hop on your jolly foot,
and dance around the maple.
Last comes the day,
and first comes the night.
Please do not cry, do not even sigh,
the stars have not been aligned.
Not like natal, it can't be fatal,
it's not a day of that kind.
You've come before me,
please don't ignore me,
you must explore me.
Put your head back in your mind.
La la la la, la la la la la,
La la la la la, la la la.
On your behalf, you'll soon have a laugh,
and the wind will blow away.
You've come too soon, to look at the moon,
to see the light of the day.
You'll have to wait them,
anticipate them,
answers relate them.
To the farce of which I say.
La la la la, la la la la la,
La la la la la, la la la.
So hop on your jolly foot,
and dance around the maple.
First on your left,
and then on your right.
Hop on your jolly foot,
and dance around the maple.
Last comes the day,
and first comes the night.
[ Mandrol, attempting to kick up his heels falls to the
ground. ]
Christopher:
Ha-ha-ha. A master of the art of downward motional calamities. You are
ridiculous, you are such a foolish minstrel. You do not even realize that, that was not
a birthday song you were singing. What has a stupid little ballad of this kind got to
do with my birthday anyway, or even with me for that matter. The tree as you can plainly
see is not a maple, it is an oak.
Mandrol:
What ... Well, it was the only song that I could think of at the time. I am sure it fits
the occasion, you were just not paying attention. Well, then I shall do something else
to entertain you. I have just the thing for you to see. I shall, with my immense talents,
among which is acting, perform a dramatic play in your honour. Now let me think, aha, I
have got just the show for you to see. "The Play of Plays". Watch closely and you may see
yourself in the play. I am sure you will identify with the actor as all actors of life
may be. The play begins:
THE SUN RISES, yes I think that is right,
BUT Oh, WHAT WONDER LURKS ON THE HORIZON.
WHAT IS IT THAT I SEE,
AN OFFER, OF WHAT KIND?
DO MY EYES DECEIVE ME?
LOOK, LOOK, LOOK THERE IT IS,
THERE, THERE, THERE IT BE.
THERE IS THE ANSWER,
THE ANSWER, ANSWER, ANSWER THERE IT IS,
I DO SEE, I DO SEE, I DO SEE!!!
IT IS WRITTEN ON THE WIND!!!
THE INVERTED DOUBLE YOU OF THE MIND!!!
Oh, excuse me for getting carried away with my acting.
With my spectacular talent, it is hard not to become the character.
I must not forget that I am me.
Now what was that next line? Oh, yes ...
Christopher:
Idiot, you insane actor, you are forgetting your lines. Do you even know what the play
is all about? Do you know what you are doing?
Mandrol:
Of course I do, it is, it is, it is, all part of the play ... it is about an actor acting
like himself. You should not have interrupted. You just did not understand. How can I
make you understand? Let me entertain you in some other manner.
Christopher:
I will have no more of this, this party is a farce. If your talents or magic are as great
as you profess then use your immense powers of mystery, conjure and chant to all your
might the rituals you must and tell me , who am I, or are you just a old senile mystic,
who can orate to the eternity of all the miracles and apparitions of no ones past.
Mandrol:
Say what you will about me but I have sincerely tried to help you. I realize now that
no one can make you see. Oh, Christopher, you must find the answer on your own, from
within yourself.
[ Mandrol takes out a pipe, tobacco and matches. ]
You are likened to the match, alone it can do no service, and the tobacco can do none
without the flame and an empty pipe is a hollow sight, but together they make
the smoke, that floats through the air and offers a pleasing aroma. You,
Christopher, are the match not yet lit, as a life not living.
Christopher:
But sir how shall I light myself? Of what essences shall I ignite? The fire cannot
be your meaning.
Mandrol:
Of course the flame is not the meaning but the meaning is in the smoke. For you
must look at the edges of the smoke to see what you seek. Answers for the most part
are in the open and clear to see, but most people try to look deeper, beyond
the skin and find themselves completely without wits, in a state of total
confusion. Christopher, you must do one of two things, skim the surface for the
answer or go to the farthest inner reaches of the smoke, until you come to
the outer surface again, then you shall be known.
Christopher:
It is hard to understand what you are talking about. My mind is burned with
disillusion. Your speeches seem to run my mind in circles which have neither
beginning nor end. I can not bare this any longer, I must do something, but
what?
[ Christopher sings "Elegy Of Bewildered Man" in despair. ]
[ Elegy Of Bewildered Man ]
As of late, yes, at the moon,
I find myself stared out of tune.
All the moves in past, been planned,
like wind takes waves to touch the sand.
Glory holds me in her eye,
for me to reach beyond the sky.
No binding chains others clasp,
shall hold me now, I'm free at last.
Hopes are high, but there's the test,
to stand in strength, work on, the best.
Done with the pasts learned rule,
but freedoms day is slyly cruel.
Seems as though the links I've made,
shall hold me fast in no ones trade.
Straight my course, I knew it well,
but how to start, the problems swell.
Who am I?
I cry!
Where is me?
to be.
Who am I?
I cry!
Where is me?
to be.
Time has come for me to be,
the man in my life's destiny.
Rivers flow from spring of source,
but who am I to take the course.
Questions were laid on the shelf,
but now I have to find myself.
For this answer, I do yearn,
where to go, which way to turn.
I have lived within the ties,
the morning light blinds black my eyes.
Cold winds blow into my face,
and abstracts found no other place.
Down and down I seem to go,
until my life's lower than low.
Feast upon the times you can,
elegy of bewildered man.
Who am I?
I cry!
Where is me?
to be.
Who am I?
I cry!
Where is me?
to be.
[ Mandrol draws slowly on his pipe and emits a billowous cloud of smoke
that disperses into the still air, then floats towards the region of
Christopher. The wind stops and the smoke hovers around the lads head.
Suddenly, an amazing idea comes to Christopher. ]
Christopher:
I know what I will do. I will go on a journey in hopes of finding the true
meaning of me. Oh, but that would be like looking for a needle in a
haystack.
Mandrol:
Perchance you will find the needle and miss the stack of hay.
Christopher:
Well ... I think I must go anyway. I have to do something all on my
own.
Mandrol:
Christopher, expect the unexpected for it stares you in the left eye. In
truth it is there, but it hides in the corner of the wind.
Christopher:
But there is no wind now, not even a small breeze.
Mandrol:
Can you see the wind?
Christopher:
Of course not.
Mandrol:
Well then, how do you know that it is not there, slyly, cautiously waiting, waiting
in calm resolution for the perfect moment, to catch you off guard and blow
throughout your hemispheres of reasoning, then you shall awaken to the bells and
be surprised to know ...
Christopher:
I must go now. I must start the search for myself, you have been a good friend
goodbye Mandrol.
[ Christopher exits to the left. ]
Mandrol:
Goodbye, Christopher, and remember, it hides in the corner of the wind.
[ Mandrol pauses until Christopher is out of sight. ]
Such an unfortunate lad are you, that your mind should be at both extremes
at the same instant. I think that you are not the only one that must face
problems of this nature. In these times, the question, which is brought
on by such a powerful force, seems to be more universal, yet its origin
is not completely understood. Madness will grow. Fate has been disrupted.
Oh, such mixtures of seasonings spring forth an unreasoning, to such a
point all knows all but still knows nothing. Where all are educated yet
remain ignorant. We all move swiftly across a plain of knowledge have but a
second to look sideways. Nature always wins in the end. The path of life
is mixed with confusion. Even if the path be straight and narrow, it
may move up and down to such extremes of elevation as to confuse the
best of men. Even if the path be brick or any, it is not an easy path.
Such fortunes are these, that bring my reasoning to believe that
unless nature is found for all men, most will be led up and down the
hills and valleys to search endlessly for what is almost impossible
to attain. Oh, Christopher, My son, guide thy journey well, for
obstacles stand strong before you. For good judgment look to the stars
that shine bright within yourself. Keep an alertness about your wits
and do not forget that of which hides in the corner of the wind.
[ The scene fades to darkness. ]
The Christ Offer - Act I Scene II
[ In a sunlit morning meadow an elderly painter enters from the right carrying an easel,
canvas and painting supplies. He is wearing a grey barre and has paint covering his
oversized grey smock. He faces the audience, sets the easel up facing himself, places
the canvas on the easel and thoughtfully, skilfully begins mixing the paint with brush
and palette. Suddenly, the black cat enters from the right being pursued by a black
dog. They race through the legs of the easel and topple it. The artist can bare no
disruption in his concentration, frustratingly he chases the animals off to the
left. ]
The Christ Offer - Act I Scene III
[ The stage is completely dark. Black lights illuminate a face-less mime figure
who enters from the right and casually strolls across the stage. His entire
form is covered in fluorescent silver-grey material. Unexpectedly, he runs
into an invisible wall. He feels for the wall. He attempts to go around the
wall but finds that he cannot. With both hands he grasps his head in confusion.
He attempts to retrace his steps but only to find himself enclosed between
four invisible walls. He pauses a moment to contemplate the situation. He sits
on the floor shaking his head, not knowing what to do. The scene fades to
darkness. ]
The Christ Offer - Act II Scene I
Narrator:
[ Later on that same morning, along a lonely path of some unknown longitude.
An old brownish-grey owl sits in a rocking chair atop a sign post. Two
direction pointers extend from the podium, one reading "Right" the other
reading "Left". The owl is wearing large rounded spectacles which rest
upon his protruding beak and is reading a book. Christopher approaches
the fork in the road from the left singing a sorry tune. Christopher sings
"Lonely Road". ]
[ Lonely Road ]
Oh, the lonely road of nowhere,
doesn't seem to lead anyplace,
loneliness upon my face,
as I walk at
a steady pace.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Each step a new experience,
hardships for a lonely man.
Solving problems by myself,
never knowing where I stand.
Through eternal silence,
I hear voices in the wind.
I look around and no one's there,
is this all just in my mind.
Oh, the lonely road of nowhere,
doesn't seem to lead anyplace,
loneliness upon my face,
as I walk at
a steady pace.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Thoughts of life surrounding me,
walking forth on lonely land.
I try to put my mark on life,
leaving only steps in the sand.
Do I know what I'm looking for,
really I'm not very sure.
But when I find it then I'll know,
it's going to be true and pure.
Oh, the lonely road of nowhere,
doesn't seem to lead anyplace,
loneliness upon my face,
as I walk at
a steady pace.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Down the lonely road of nowhere.
Christopher:
Who are you?
Owl:
I am mister W.I.S.E. Owl the third, and who, who, who are you?
Christopher:
Hmm, now that is a very good question, but I am without an answer.
Owl:
What? Forgot who you are, did you get hit with something. have you got
amnesia?
Christopher:
Amnesia, 'tis like, but in truth I think I never knew, as for getting hit, yes,
by a blow of this realization. But if it's my name that you are after, 'tis
Christopher.
Owl:
What kind of talk is this? Ah, you are not one of these new radicals are you?
Christopher:
I am only a person looking for oneself.
Owl:
You sound like a radical. Did you come to brew trouble?
Christopher:
I assure you sir I wish you no harm. I am only on a journey in search of myself.
Owl:
In search of yourself, preposterous, you are standing right here, you have to look
in the mirror to see yourself. You are right in front of me, where do you think
yourself is, flying off into the wind? You definitely talk like a radical. Your
speech has no meaning. You are right here. Oh, it worries me, this new generation,
things where so much better in the old days.
Christopher:
Perchance I have come into the world too late. Was it really better years ago?
Owl:
Of course it was better. Why I can remember when the path only came this far. I had
a farm here at one time. I grew all my own food and had all kinds of animals. I had
a fine house too, with all the luxuries that you could imagine. At night when my
work was finished I use to sit on my porch in my favourite rocking-chair. I would
smoke my pipe, drink my whiskey and gaze up at the stars to relax, just listening
to the wind. I was satisfied, I made a good living.
But this new way, this new generation, nothing but critics. Their philosophies of
life frighten me. They are turning everything upside-down. They are proposing
extreme and alarming changes. The old ways have worked for centuries, yet they
disregard old customs and traditions. Ah, times have changed, life is not the
same any more.
Christopher:
But cannot a change be sometimes for the better?
Owl:
No, not the changes that these radicals propose. When they came they wanted to
extend the road, progress they called it. But they could not agree on how it
should be done, so some went to the left and others made a path to the right.
You would think that the simplest decision would be one path down the middle.
The radicals came with drastic changes which created utter chaos. This
disruption in the soul can well cause turmoil in nature, for now the stars are
read differently and the wind is constantly changing its direction. For
example, I had some pigs once, they were fine plump pigs, contented, I had no
trouble with them. Not until the radicals came, then it started. The pigs
turned from pink to dark red. They grew monsterous tusks and became utterly
uncontrollable, so much so that I had to get rid of them. I sold them to a
person down the road, a shoemaker I believe. He was very pleased to purchase
them and did pay a fine price for them. I am not sure what he wanted with
them but the money was good.
And my farm, my beautiful farm, the radicals laid their roads right through
it. They had no regard for my views, they just sliced my farm into three
pieces by these roads. It is very hard to work a farm and keep it running
smoothly when it is in three separate sections. The soil in each region has
changed. I use to be able to sow a little bit of everything in the different
segments, but now the individual components seem to support only what they
want to. Presently each parcel of land has developed special characteristics
of their own. They seem to fight among one another, hording all the nutrients
and water for themselves. When one is productive you can be sure that the
other two are growing poorly.
And because of these roads no one ever stops to settle here anymore, they
just keep on going on down one of the roads. It irritates me just to think
about it. But for sure it was the radicals that started all of this turmoil.
Christopher:
But are all radicals bad?
Owl:
I had hoped that all radicals would not be bad but they are. The faults of these
new youths measure many. Their whole concept of life is so different from that
of the old ways. It is as if they are fashioned from an abstract mold, with
ingrediences of the strangest essences. Their speech is not the same as old.
Their clothes are fashioned strangely different. They wear their hair vary long,
and appear untidy and not groomed. I have a great appreciation for most music
but their melodies are hardening to the ear. They have little respect for their
elders. They make love where and when it may please them. They have no sense of
money, in fact many regard its holding of no value. Their spirits are too free,
feeling that what ever they want to do, they do it, with no regard for anyone
else. They are forever under the influences of strange mixtures, which to many
cause grave problems. They are riotous and easily excited. They have no leaders,
they only follow themselves selfishly. Sometimes I think they follow the wind
but never catch it.
'Tis like this book, bound and manufactured in the fashion of old, yet holding
the essences of the new. Hear me a moment longer and let me read to you the
story. As of last night I have been reading this same story, still to derive
no meaning from it.
[ The Owl adjusts his spectacles. ]
Christopher:
I have heard that owls have excellent vision, so why do you wear spectacles?
Owl:
As I have been graced with fantastic insight, hindsight and foresight, I am
inclined to say that I have been condemned with poor eyesight. But on with the
story. The title is "The Winds" Oh, excuse me, I read the "M" as a "W",
I do not know why but sometimes I see my letters upside down, but let me
continue. The story title is the "The Minds Of Time". The text reads:
Within time, without time, surrounded by all, yet surrounded by nothing,
with ultimate power and the absence of all energy, there was a supreme
being. This being wished to tell a story to bring about eternal knowledge
to his son. It began: In a galaxy infinite light years beyond, on a planet
of unmatched intelligence, there was a being. Om was his name. Om had
decided to enlighten his sons hemispheres of reasoning by telling him a
story. His son was anxious to begin this journey for wisdom. His father
began: In a land far from here, on a planet called earth there was a man.
This man also had a son. It was late at night and time for his son to go
to bed. Every night the man would read a bedtime story to his son. The
tale began: Once upon a time there was a bear and his cub. They lived
comfortably in the woods. Every night at precisely seven o'clock papa
bear would read a story to baby bear. Throughout the days happenings
the baby bear waited excitedly for this very special moment. The papa
bear began the story: There were the supreme beings ...
Then there is a footnote stating that "The reader should continue from
the top of the first page".
You can very well see what progress has done, it has produced a story tale
that means nothing. The story just goes in circles with no real beginning
or end. These are the faults of the radicals, this new youth, they have
no insight, hindsight or foresight.
Christopher:
But isn't it possible that the meaning may be buried within the reading of
the story? Should you look deeper?
Owl:
'Tis more likely that the story should be buried without a meaning, for of
its usefulness I can draw no value. There is no purpose to the story. 'Tis
nothing but wasted paper. If I were to write a story it would have a
beginning, a middle and an end that one could easily understand.
Christopher:
But should every story have a beginning, middle and an end? Under what law
is this governed?
Owl:
Under the law of reason, of course, if something begins it must inevitably
end. That is only common sense, my unfortunate Christopher.
Christopher:
Then what is common sense governed under? I don't understand the reasoning.
How is one to find the answer?
Owl:
Don't ask such absurd questions, when the answer is so obvious. You are
beginning to sound more and more like a radical. I assure you the brand is
most distasteful. You must accept things as they are. Here for example
where the ways of life are right and one can live a good life. Here where
the old ways and tradition stand strong. Here where one can have roots and
a life that means something. Such is the offer of the old ways.
[ With robust expression Owl begins to sing "Old Ways". ]
[ Old Ways ]
Oh, those yesterdays.
Tradition made the only plays,
customs were obeyed always,
no one ever thought to raise,
a questioned eye or troubled praise.
We were happy with our ways.
In the olden days.
We didn't have this purple haze,
gone masquerading through a maze,
what strange simplistic lazy craze,
I think it's just a passing faze.
We just had the old ways.
In todays modern age.
They have settled to the stage,
where all the players turn the page,
caught up in their mental cage,
feeding on their inner rage.
Oh, what futile actions they wage.
What of the future age.
In front of us the problem lays,
who shall be set to appraise,
new conditions of these days,
to make content the masses plays.
And make a set of new old ways.
Oh, those Old Ways.
Shine bright in the suns rays,
as water flows into the bays,
these ways have worked for many days,
it's the only rule that pays.
So join me in the Old Ways.
Christopher:
You make the old ways sound very good. But can this be the only way to
live?
Owl:
Yes, the only right way to live, not like the wasteful ways of the
radicals.
Christopher:
Do you think it would be possible for me to live in the tradition of the
old ways?
Owl:
Of course, my fine lad, true course.
Christopher:
Would all my questions of life be answered?
Owl:
Of course they would, with wisdom that will astound you.
Christopher:
Oh, can it be true, have I at last found my place in the world? All my life
I have waited for this day, my birthday, when I would truely know my place
in life and in the universe.
Owl:
And now for sure you have found it. You shall settle here. Oh, it makes me
feel good to know that there are still some around who can see with their
eyes the righteousness of the old ways. This gives me new hope for the
future. I had thought that all cause was lost for the continuation of the
mighty old ways. The radicals have lost, there comes a youthful being to
save and live in the old ways.
Christopher:
You make it sound that you are at odds with the radicals.
Owl:
We are, we are at odds, the ideology of ideals, and we shall win the deciding
outcome.
Christopher:
And I have truly found myself. My journey was not made in vain. I knew this day would bring me
good fortune. All my questions will be answered. I will know the true meaning of me. Oh,
what a beautiful birthday present. Just what I had hoped for. I have truly had my party with
all its fixings and joy and happiness. Oh, please then, please tell me, great wise Owl. Who am
I? What does it mean to be a man?
Owl:
There you go again, talking like a radical, do not ask such ridiculous questions.
Christopher:
It is truly a sincere question I need to know.
Owl:
You are you, and yourself is yourself, and that is that.
[ The wind begins to flare. ]
Christopher:
I am confused. I thought that you could tell me. You are not as wise as you made me
believe. Surely your initials are false.
Owl:
Now don't be disrespectful. Remember the old ways.
Christopher:
I must know the answer, that is the purpose of my journey. I must travel, for the want
of this answer is buried deep in my heart. It is a blood longing. I must know an answer
or I shall die.
Owl:
Yet think again, will you not stay? I entreat you, I have no surviving relations. You
could be the heir to my lands and what fortune you will have here. You can make a good
life here. We shall converse of traditions and live in the manner of the old ways. I
can give you a formal education encompassing all man's wisdom with parchment issue.
You will surely enjoy a scholarly old life.
Christopher:
I cannot.
Owl:
You cannot leave me here alone. Their are no others around these lands that live in
the old ways. No one to keep me company or share my life and fortunes with.
Christopher:
I must search out a new life of my own. It must be of my own making, with special
meaning just for me. I must know myself.
Owl:
Christopher, you are out of your mind with your stupid idea of going on a journey
to find yourself. I have anger for you as you are truly a radical. Oh, Christopher,
I beg of you, reconsider.
Christopher:
I cannot, I shall not!
Owl:
You have come to brew trouble. You win my hopes, my love and my respect and you try
to take me over, then you cast me off. Be gone young radical! I will have nothing
of you. I have tried to give you sound counsel but your ears shut me out. You have
become narrowed with this affliction of the mind. You shall never conceive reality.
In caverns cast the newborn squirrel. I lay hard my curse upon you, for you are
truly a radical. You are an unacceptable element in the chemistry of this land.
You are destined to be cast out of the old world.
Christopher:
Please, Sir, be not angry with me, just because my ways are different.
Owl:
Be gone. Fly off as the wind.
[ Christopher begins speaking to himself, detached, as if the owl were no longer
there. ]
Christopher:
Right or left, but which way should I go? Right is always right, right. Then surely
left is wrong, right. But if you take right, right away then left is all that's
left. This is a problem. The right path looks cold and lonely. It has rocks and
would probably be harder to walk on. The path has hardly been worn, so I would
assume it would have been less traveled. On the other hand, the left path appears
to be straight and narrow. I can see that there are beautiful marigolds along the
way. Whereas, the right path has only simple dandelions. The left path is well
worn and would be easier to travel on. Also this shows that most have gone to the
left. The majority is always right, right. Therefore I will go left. Well,
goodbye mister Owl, I hope that someday you will understand why I must do what
I must do.
[ Christopher walks off to the left. Owl sighs a mournful sigh and once again
continues his vocalization. ]
Owl:
Always left alone, no one ever stops to settle here anymore. Always on the run.
To be fascinated in the fascination. Mysteries intrigue the world. While
uncovering the mystery for an answer, we become even more interested in the
mystery. When we get the answer it seems too simple. We feel we have missed
something along the way. The end result is never sufficient. There is always
another question. Perhaps there are no great answers or answers that seem
beyond infinity. There are just questions built up to immense proportion to
give us the hope of super enlightening answers. So why do we persist in asking
questions of this nature? Interests are developed from some unknown force.
Why do we have instinct to search for knowledge? I myself am guilty of this
else why would I ask these questions of myself?
Oh, Christopher, you infuriate me, yet I do feel love for you. You seem a
son to me. I realize that you must follow the wind. If I could only strike
years off of my age, I would probably be made of this exact same metal. Yet
my life is gone. Death approaches in all of its darkness. The old ways will
be gone. Oh, how I will miss them, and with such a longing in my heart.
These are my anxieties and frustrations.
Fate has long since been dealt to me, it is in the cards and the stars. When
I really think of it, do I even know myself? I cannot reason an answer.
Maybe it is time for me to leave this place. But I could never decide which
path be right. So ... I will sit, read my book waiting for my death and hope
for the past two return. It all seems so unreal, madness. Yes, these matters
confuse me. I should look deeper. But if I look too deep I will reach the
un-answering surface again. So I must go only half deep.
[ Owl begins "Death of an Idol". a recitation to musical counterpoint. ]
[ Death of an Idol ]
Hope is vague ...
nothing to look forward to,
another day of emptiness,
the sun, the trees and the wind will make,
shadows that dance in the air,
the eye will strain to find the figures that,
are really only in the wind.
Look, look, look,
ever deeper into the shadows in hope of,
seeing the answer,
searching but why?
Deeper, deeper, deeper,
until there is only darkness.
The wind forcing its way through the trees,
the limbs bending ever so slightly from the,
resistance of the leaves,
And the sound, like the swish of a whirlwind,
And the draining of spirits,
Never a cloud should make a sound,
for fear of being overcome by the sun.
Quick, Quiver and chill, Oh, Shout!
The passing of bodies that never stop to stay,
occasionally asking directions then,
disregarding advice,
The yawn of frustration from a tired old body.
The floatation of a flower petal being,
carried off by the wings of the mind.
Smoke dissipating in the air.
An abundance of love, with no one to share.
The cry of a child who is not there.
Loneliness,
Anger,
Sorrow,
Deep depression.
A hungry thought in want of nourishment.
A restless stomach asking to be pleased.
A sip of hard spirits to break the chill of the air.
And sleep, the offer that does not come soon enough.
Please sleep, come and join me.
Such is the Death of an Idle.
[ The scene fades to darkness ]
The Christ Offer - Act II Scene II
[ Forenoon, in a calmer section of the meadow. The painter is working diligently,
on his creation. He is facing the audience with the easel facing himself. He
stops for a moment to studiously observe his canvas and paints. Suddenly, the
black dog enters from the right and scampers frightenedly off to the left to stay
ahead of an oncoming fire. The fire races across the stage covering the painter
and his supplies in black soot. The artists shows an expression of frustration
and a sigh of disappointment. He packs up his easel and supplies and exits to
the left. ]
The Christ Offer - Act II Scene III
[ The mine figure is sitting on the floor. An idea strikes him. He uses an
imaginary ladder to climb over the wall. He rejoices over his new-found
freedom. He goes to walk away but finds himself enclosed in a second set of
walls. He tries to climb over these walls but finds that he is now blocked
by a ceiling. He once again sits on the floor, baffled. ]
The Christ Offer - Act III Scene I
Narrator:
[ It is noon in a forest darkly shaded by immense willows, their are vines
overhead, growing downward in ominous multitude. The path is now crooked
and worn. Rocks push out of the ground, starved for light. There is an air
of loneliness, of fear and of deep isolation. As if entering a forbidden
world. A motionless actor Natas stands in dominance atop a large rock
shaped in the form of a pedestal. He is dressed in a blackish grey, hooded
robe. His face and hands glow red. The scene is starved of all energy as
if suspended in animation. A single bolt of lightning strikes the monolith.
The figure comes alive. The actor Natas sings "The Holocaust". ]
[ The Holocaust ]
No one's seen the mothers' child,
wrapped in ragged dismembered miles.
Sentence dawns upon this day,
cosmic spears come forth to play.
Desert floods, the ocean's dry,
the sun explodes, black in the sky.
Energy in all its rage,
come to blast the final stage.
Enter now into my realm,
only I stand at the helm.
Be you children bought and paid,
in my hands your lives are laid.
Power, riches, you did want,
now I've got your souls to taunt.
Had you faith, this would not be,
you were warned but did not see.
The Holocaust, you thought it was lost,
but now it is here, ringing in your ear.
You have no say, concerning my play,
so bow your head, now and welcome the dead.
Here the wind can do no more,
you have become natures lore.
Come and eat forbidden fruit,
I am sure your taste will suit.
You will come to love the kind,
find the center of your mind.
Now your passions at its most,
see how well you love the post.
Still down brows are facing you,
I direct your every move.
I stand strong beyond the wind,
thrusting forth my wrath of mind.
Chaos strikes human desire,
all men flee into the fire.
All shall kneel and all shall pray,
to my new force of this age.
The Holocaust, you thought it was lost,
but now it is here, ringing in your ear.
You have no say, concerning my play,
so bow your head, now and welcome the dead.
All Men
[ Natas stands with pride. He hears someone approaching. ]
Natas:
Yeah, what squirrel comes forth for the skinning?
[ Christopher enters from the right. He does not yet see Natas.]
Christopher:
I think it is quite possible that I made the wrong decision in taking the left path. It
appeared to be better, but it is dwindling my spirits fast. The path has worsened by
my every step. Now all the marigolds are gone and in their place are ragweed. Before
it was bright and sunny, but now the sky is unseen. Shaded by enormous, frightening
willows. That the noon sun cannot pierce. It was better warn, but now it is muddy and
harder to walk upon. It was warmer, but now it has become terribly hot. The path
started out to be straight and narrow, but now it is crooked and seems to be on a
decline. This place is very strange. It sends hot chills up my spine. Well even if I
took the wrong path and I'm not certain that this is the wrong path. At least I made
a decision. Not like that silly old owl who is stuck on his perch in the middle of
the road. Oh, how stagnant the old one is. But still I have found little or no answer
to my question.
Natas:
Well then ask your question.
Christopher:
What... Who are you?
Natas:
Ah, that question is easy to answer. I am Natas a simple and humble dweller of
these parts. In my domain I try to gather and prepare souls to suit my
fashion. It is a very noble and difficult profession. One that requires
much work and dedication but I find my tasks extremely rewarding.
Christopher:
So you are a shoemaker, a very fine trade indeed, but that was not what I meant
when I said there was no answer to my question. I was speaking to myself
about a much more formidable question.
Natas:
Well then ask your question. I would be more than glad to help you if I can.
It brings joy to my heart when I am able to assist someone of the world.
Although I have never claimed to be the holder of great knowledge, I have
added some to get on the right track. I have counseled them to see more
clearly and guided their souls with my ways. Oh, I do say this most humbly.
Christopher:
My problem is that I don't understand my own identity. I don't understand what
it means to be a man. If there is anything that you can do to help me, I
would be most grateful.
Natas:
Grateful, I'm sure. I'm sure you would be. This is a difficult problem. Let me
think a moment. How can I help you? You say you don't know who you are. Let
me see now how would one find himself, his true self? The answer is simple,
you must go on a journey to look for yourself.
Christopher:
But I am already on my journey and I have come across nothing, no answer.
Natas:
No, no, not a physical journey, a trip of the mind.
Christopher:
But how can one walk into one's mind? I think if I were to step foot into my
head, I would know nothing but pain.
Natas:
Oh, there must be a way. Ah, I've got just the thing. I have a special soul
exploring preparation. I use it to fashion my souls. It brings them to the
most radiant shine. I am certain if it can cure souls that it can surely
help you. I mix It myself with the greatest of care and strictest of eye.
It's my own highly guarded recipe. Only I have the knowledge of its
ingredients. I assure you there will be no pain, only pleasure.
[ Natas pulls out a small sack. ]
Christopher:
But what will this preparation do for me? I am not a shoe.
Natas:
Don't be so sceptical. How do you know it won't work until you have tried
it. You have nothing to lose yet everything to gain. It will polish your
fixtures and allow you to see more brightly and look at life from all
perspectives. Oh, my dear lad, it will help you find yourself. It will
take you to the centre of your mind. To the centre of your universe.
Please take this offer as a meagre gift from me to you.
Christopher:
I appreciate your generosity very much, but I am sceptical. Others have
tried to give me the answer and failed. They have promised as much as you
have, but could not fulfill their promises. Many talk of helping me to
find the answer but do not know the answer themselves. Please forgive me.
I mean not to discredit your preparation, but I am not sure that it
could help me. I have been disillusioned too many times. My problem is
very difficult, supposedly the wisest have tried to give me an answer.
It is quite possibly above the scope of a simple shoemaker. Please,
Natas, I hope I haven't offended you.
Natas:
I realize that I am very simple, you don't have to make such a point of
it. You have as much as called me a liar and a fake in my own profession.
You are not very kind. You have shamed me. I am truly sorry for
suggesting anything. I was only trying to help. Even if I am a
simpleton, my intentions are purely honourable.
Christopher:
I didn't mean to sound so pessimistic.
Natas:
You have ground my feelings to an ultimate low.
Christopher:
I apologize if I have hurt your feelings, I assure you I did not mean to.
You are so kind, so generous, so well meaning. How could I possibly say
no? Please, Natas, give me the preparation.
[ Christopher takes the preparation and drinks it all down. ]
Natas:
Your decision overwhelms me. You will not regret it. You will explore the
furthest inner reaches of your imagination. It will give you a chance to
find yourself within the bounds of your hemispheres of reasoning. It
will give you happiness and peace of mind. Time shall be yours to
control. The cards shall be stacked in your favour. You shall have
ultimate power over your own fate. The wind will blow at your mercy. You
will find yourself. You will find the answer within the circle. You
will feel as you have never felt before. This is the knowledge of all,
contained in the preparation. On this glorious day, you shall be reborn.
Christopher:
I am beginning to feel very strange.
Natas:
You will enjoy the feeling, I assure you.
[ Christopher stands motionless, stunned by the preparation. The ground
beneath his feet raises him up. Gigantic transparent prisms come up
from the ground surrounding Christopher in a circle. They slowly
rotate around him, going from right to left. Thunder sounds and multi
coloured lights flash in all directions. Christopher sings "The
Journey (Flying)". ]
[ The Journey (Flying) ]
I like to fly up high, to fly up high,
to fly up high, high, high, high.
I try to touch the sky, to touch the sky,
to touch the sky, sky, sky, sky.
I see the answer why, the answer why,
the answer why, why, why, why.
I like to fly up high, to fly up high,
to fly up high, high, high, high.
I really believe that I can Fly.
I really believe that I can Fly.
Hey there come on and try, come on and fly,
come on and fly, fly, fly, fly.
It makes the time go bye, the time go bye,
the time go bye, bye, bye, bye.
I'm not afraid to die, afraid to die,
afraid to die, die, die, die.
Hey there come on and try, come on and fly,
come on and fly, fly, fly, fly.
I really believe that I can Fly.
I really believe that I can Fly.
I like to fly up high, to fly up high,
to fly up high, high, high, high.
I try to touch the sky, to touch the sky,
to touch the sky, sky, sky, sky.
I see the answer why, the answer why,
the answer why, why, why, why.
I like to fly up high, to fly up high,
to fly up high, high, high, high.
I really believe that I can Fly.
I really believe that I can Fly.
[ A blinding flare of fire is thrust from the base of a spacecraft
overhead. It slowly descends to the Earth. A young being clings in
desperation to the central axis of the craft. As it reaches the
ground it explode shaking off the young being. The young being
kneels helplessly. The young being is terrified. Masses of peasants
enter from the right to look on. The peasants are frozen with
terror, as if suspended in animation. The young being sings
"The Journey (Peace And Love)". ]
[ The Journey (Peace And Love) ]
Peace and love.
Peace and love.
It will come soon now.
Peace and love.
Peace and love.
Peace and love.
It will come soon now.
Peace and love.
[ An army of seven marches out from the right. They act with speed
and precision. They aim their weapons. Their hearts are numb of any
feeling. With hardcore decisiveness the army destroys the young
being without consideration or mercy. The young being falls to the
ground limp freed from life. The soldiers stand over their victim
showing no emotion. The peasants rejoice over the success of the
battle. They sing "The Journey (The Peasant Song)". ]
[ The Journey (The Peasant Song) ]
Behold the beauty of life.
Behold the beauty of love.
Behold the beauty of all.
Behold the beauty of life.
Behold the beauty of love.
Behold the beauty of all.
[ All is collected up except one shoe from the young being, The soldiers
and the peasants exit to the left. Christopher is lowered down. The
prisms sink back into the ground. Christopher sings "The Journey
(Cosmic Journey)". ]
[ The Journey (Cosmic Journey) ]
Came a flash, a streak of light,
decent upon the earth one night.
Fate the message that was sent,
disastrously the craft was spent.
Those who saw, froze in terror,
from the sight of its bearer.
The army came forth to employ,
such mechanism to destroy.
When the job had been completed,
all was calm and all retreated.
Lights do flash across my eyes.
Music flows within my ears.
My head spins in a whirlpool.
On my cheeks roll down the tears.
I crawl 'round on hands and knees.
Looking for something, I can't find.
I don't know what I'm doing.
Could I be losing my mind?
Such confusion in the flight,
to mark someone as out of sight.
What a force, a vision spell,
to make me feel that all's not well.
Where has justice gone today,
perhaps within the natures way.
Over-seer hails the past,
and diamond ears are deafened fast.
From this world am I to flee,
Is this my own cosmic journey?
Am I here or am I there?
Strange to be a fantasy.
How absurd to be unreal.
Why does this happen to me?
Do I fly high in the air?
Did I fall come crashing down?
Hear the rhythm of the brain.
See myself on the ground.
[ The music stops. Christopher lays unconscious on the ground. Natas stands
over him with a devious smile. A thick layer of fog slowly rolls out from
the right covering the ground. Natas levitates Christopher's rigid body.
Natas gets the shoe left by the young being and places it by Christopher's
head. Natas raises his arms in praise of himself in doing so flames
spring up from the ground around them. Natas stands motionless in deep
concentration. ]
Natas:
Christopher, your journey is at its end and also at a new beginning. You
shall embark to be a follower of me. You shall live by the essences of my
new ways. Completely controlled by my vast powers. The grey doom has
come. You will no longer be what you were. I shall control your play. You
shall come to know what grace and beauty is present in my ways.
Heed not your elders for they know nothing. It is only by their definition
that we are radicals. They teach nothing but the ways of forgotten days.
They exaggerate our kind out of proportion. We are not freaks of nature.
The old ones shun us because they don't understand the idea of difference.
I was pushed out of the old world. They branded me as an outcast with
their curses. They shut me out. They do not want to accept us as we are.
The old ways must die, and I am bound to conquer them. They are the past,
soon to be dead and gone.
No one will ever tell me what to do. They will not run my life, for now I
have the power. I will fight to free the world so that all can live to
see the joy of my new ways. It is an honourable cause. I will show them
that my ways are the best. That my ways are ultimately right. By the
laws made by my own hand, we shall do what we desire. We are strong
because the old ones fear us. I will resort to anything to win the
battle and achieve my goals.
[ Natas sings "Marriage To Natas". ]
[ Marriage To Natas ]
Follow in my footsteps,
image of the new.
Knights are changing for you,
you have become shrewd.
Mark your elders not man,
sin against your frame.
Lust has come to join you,
currency of pain.
Trapped within your conscience,
sanity is paid.
Strike you down to nothing,
newborn babe is laid.
Auction's over baby,
now you are the land.
Starring recollections,
memories the band.
Life has forsaken you,
Natas waits your stand.
Universal bidding,
come and take my hand.
Voyage has become you,
seizing of the flood.
Ever all you will thirst,
ritual of blood.
Down the steps with me go,
see your world the last.
You were once the infant,
now you are the past.
Fire will surround you,
heat of lasting love.
Radiate your power,
over ground above.
Natas:
Soon, Christopher, you will be made in my fashion. You shall become my son.
I will love you more than anyone could ever love you. I will have conquered
the wind. You shall see as I have always seen.
[ Suddenly, the wind flares up in an immense flurry. The shoe flies up into
the sky. Christopher wakes up and instinctively races off to the left
screaming. ]
Christopher:
Where is the answer?
[ Natas is caught off guard. It is too late for Natas to act. He stands,
looking at the left corner of the sky with hatred in his eyes. The scene
fades to darkness. ]
The Christ Offer - Act III Scene II
Narrator:
[ Finally, the omnipresent brain has been assembled with the ability of
infinite knowledge to be construed. It is afternoon in an elaborate
courtyard of a castle. There is a huge chrome grey mechanism, the
computer, Eternal Knowledge, in the centre of the courtyard. Christopher
enters from the right. ]
Christopher:
Oh, what strange things I have encountered on my travels and now this...
The walls of this building seem to glow as if radiating some form of
powerful energy. I hear a strange hum. Where does it come from? This
surely must be a place of supreme wisdom. Perhaps I shall find what I
am looking for in this very place.
Eternal Knowledge:
Hail!
Christopher:
What? Where? Who are you?
Eternal Knowledge:
I am Eternal Knowledge.
Christopher:
What? Where are you?
Eternal Knowledge:
I am here, right before your very eyes, in the middle of the courtyard.
Are you blind? Can't you see me?
Christopher:
What are you? Are you trapped inside this... this thing?
Eternal Knowledge:
I am this thing. I am called Eternal Knowledge. The genius of all there
ever was, all there is, and all that there ever will be. I am the king
of Infinity and the holder of all knowledge. I am supreme in thought
and recollection. My capacity is more than the combinations of all the
men's minds that ever have been born or ever will be born. My
mechanisms are unmistakably precise and accurate. My power to solve
problems is unmatched. I am the fulfiller of all expectations. Such is
my offer.
Christopher:
Then, Sir, I beg of you, I have a problem. Would you be so kind as to
assist me with a solution?
Eternal Knowledge:
You shall marvel at my miracles. Ask. Ask. Of man or beast, of scholar
or squirrel, of nothing or anything. Tell me what is your question?
Christopher:
Could you tell me, who am I?
Eternal Knowledge:
That is a very simple task. After you have experienced the power of my
knowledge, you will want to stay here with me as my learned one.
Christopher:
Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.
[ The mechanism, Eternal Knowledge, begins to process the question.
Christopher becomes very excited. A piece of paper ripples out of
a rectangular spout in the middle of the mechanism Eternal Knowledge. ]
Eternal Knowledge:
Name: Christopher. Height: Five Foot, Eight Inches. Weight: One Hundred
and Fifty Pounds. Colour of Hair: Blonde. Colour of Eyes: Green. Date
of Birth: February the Fifth...
[ Christopher, crazed with disillusion, begins to scream. The mechanism
Eternal Knowledge violently breaks down, and smoke and flames shoot out.
Together, Christopher and Eternal Knowledge sing "Mechanical Insanity". ]
[ Mechanical Insanity. ]
Christopher:
No, no, no, no, no.
You don't understand.
That's not what I mean.
You don't comprehend.
But why can't you see?
But how can you feel.
You have no desire.
You're nothing but steel.
Millions of wire.
Eternal Knowledge:
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
Christopher:
Mechanical Insanity,
is driving me insane.
You don't know what it's all about,
you think it's just a game.
But it can take your mind away,
with nothing to remain.
And all that's left is emptiness,
mechanically insane.
No, no, no, no, no.
The meaning is lost.
You only catch part.
It's all in the cost.
You have no heart.
You make a mistake.
Your fuse must have blown.
Please for my sake.
Let me be known.
Eternal Knowledge:
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
That does not compute.
Christopher:
Mechanical Insanity,
is driving me insane.
You don't know what it's all about,
you think it's just a game.
But it can take your mind away,
with nothing to remain.
And all that's left is emptiness,
mechanically insane.
[ The courtyard is covered with Eternal Knowledge, mechanical
particles. The wind flares up and Christopher runs off to
the left. The scene fades to darkness. ]
The Christ Offer - Act III Scene III
[ It is later on in the afternoon. The painter is once again working on
his painting. With a clash of thunder a storm strikes up. The fire
enters from the right, now being chased by the storm. Together they
race across the stage and exit to the left, leaving the artist
soaking wet. Once again, the old master packs up and exits to the
left. ]
The Christ Offer - Act III Scene IV
[ The mine figure is still sitting on the ground. Another idea comes to
him. With enthusiasm he stands and rushes to the wall. He cuts a hole
in the obstruction with an imaginary saw. He pulls out the cut piece of
wall and climbs through the hole. He laughs at the wall and waves goodbye
to it. He tries to walk away but finds himself in another set of four
walls. He jumps up and down and shakes his head and arms at the wall.
He tries to cut through the new obstruction with the saw, but cannot
because it is made of a harder substance. He throws the saw onto the
floor and kicks the wall. He hops around the room in pain. Feeling all
is hopeless he lays down on the floor and goes to sleep. ]
The Christ Offer - Act IV Scene I
Narrator:
[ It is late in the afternoon, on a grassy hilltop of calm and peaceful magnitude.
A beautiful young girl, Fuchsia, with long blonde hair sits on a deep purple
blanket. She is wearing a greyish red peasant dress. Beside her is a wicker basket
filled with cheese, wine and bread. There is a small pile of firewood to her right.
Christopher enters from the right. Fuchsia the flower nymph speaks. ]
Fuchsia:
Good afternoon.
Christopher:
Who are you?
Fuchsia:
I am Fuchsia, the hill nymph. I live here on the hilltop. You have entered my
euphoric abode where all is calm and peaceful and the wind sings of love. It
has been some time since a traveler has come this way. You appeared tired and
worn. Come sit and eat with me. I have good cheese, wine and bread today.
Christopher:
Thank you very much I will stay awhile. I am weary for I have traveled many
miles today.
Fuchsia:
What brings you this way?
Christopher:
I am on a journey in search of myself. I long so for an answer to know who
I am. To know the origin of myself and of all mankind.
Fuchsia:
Oh, you poor lad. You are like an orphan and lost. How sad not to know your
own name or origin of place. Well, fret not, any longer. I shall help
you with your bearings.
Christopher:
I think you misunderstand me. I know my name, 'tis Christopher. What I don't
know is what it means to be a man or my place in the world.
Fuchsia:
That's good. You know your own name and I can tell you, you are on my hill.
Therefore, you know who you are and you know where you are. The problem is
solved.
Christopher:
Those answers are incomplete. There must be more weight to them. Today is my
birthday and I am eighteen. I expected life's answers to come to me on this
day.
Fuchsia:
You are too serious, too pessimistic. You must weigh life on a lighter scale.
You need only a proper place like this hill. Along with food and drink and
love to live and be happy and be fulfilled. It is most natural. Such basics
are sure to appeal to your tastes. Do not dwell on life's bitters. Take
some more cheese and bread, and try the wine. It will settle you most kindly.
Such are the simple offerings of the hill.
Christopher:
I thank you. You are most kind and generous.
[ Christopher gulps the wine as if it were water. ]
Fuchsia:
It would seem that you have never had wine before. Do not gulp it so, it must
be drank more slowly.
Christopher:
This is my first taste of wine. It is very good. Well I must be on my way now.
Thank you for everything.
Fuchsia:
Oh, please don't go just yet. Sit and talk with me awhile. It's been such a
long time since I've had a visitor here on the hilltop. Besides, you should
rest after having a meal.
Christopher:
Alright, if you insist, I'll stay for awhile.
Fuchsia:
Please. Tell me more about yourself.
Christopher:
There is little to tell, for I know so little. I am trying to find out
what it means to be a man. Today is my birthday and I expected to be
a man, to know what a man is.
Fuchsia:
Well then, happy birthday, so we have something to celebrate. To start
with a man is a man and a woman is a woman and together they can share
love between them. This is why we have man and woman. The world is
just made that way. We need both of them to create offspring and
perpetuate mankind into the future. That is the basic purpose of all men
and women.
Christopher:
It is not a happy birthday for me. I had hoped to find a change in me
from this day. I feel the same as yesterday, except that my confusion
has worsened. These thoughts cut me deep into my spirit, and still I
know nothing. Those who I have met today have shown me nothing to
give me an answer. I would soon think madness was upon me. I want to
be a man but I don't know if I am ready for love.
Fuchsia:
Oh, you poor lad I will tend to you. It is a hard feeling when you want
something that you cannot attain. I myself have felt this same feeling
in the past. Many times I did protest against the old ways. with sound
cause and many times nothing came of it. The cards were stacked
against me. Their ears were closed when I spoke. They are narrow in
their minds. They cannot understand the idea of difference. They are
mad. I am they say, a radical and my fate is to become nothing.
But I will stand strong here on the hill where love is in the wind and
time is on my side. Simple ways can be most pleasing. Do what you want
to do. and be free. Look above. The sun is shining bright, and the
clouds hover in the blue sky. It Is natural. Behold the beauty of
nature. Let it become your body, experience your surroundings. Soak up
the love and beauty into your soul. Touch the flowers and grass,
listen to the music of nature. Feel the wind. This philosophy is
simple and natural, even you can live by it and be happy. So you see,
there is no need to be pessimistic, there is hope for all. All you
need is love.
Christopher:
Your speech is soothing to the ear. I feel happiness here on the hill.
Being with you calms me. I am no longer lonely. If I am mad, then I
am glad for this madness is pleasing. I am overcome by some strange
force of which I know not. But I know that this wine is very good.
Fuchsia:
Take more wine and let me read to you a new poem. I am not certain
that I understand the poem, but I am sure that there is some meaning
to it. The title is "The Poet".
There once was a poet.
Who had long stretched his rhythm and rhyme.
Until there was nothing he could write.
Yet, he worked on for hours.
Until had he an idea.
To write about, nothing, he could write.
So, therefore he wrote.
About his lack of rhythm and rhyme.
A poem of nothing, he could write.
Fuchsia:
The meaning is buried. I must come back to it later and go into it
deeper. I would hope that the poem would lead me to better
understand some of the new ways. But it seems to be a poem about
nothing. Oh, look, what a beautiful sunset. It's time to build the
fire. It will warm us and give us light.
[ Fuchsia builds the fire. ]
Fuchsia:
You are still tense. Let me rub your back. It will ease your muscles
and your mind. I shall play my fingers upon your back to the music
of a relaxing tune.
Christopher:
Oh, yes, that is good. Your touch is that of velvet. This feeling
is new to me and I like it so.
[ Fuchsia begins to sing "The Hill". ]
[ The Hill ]
'T was within, and about,
of which this light did shine.
Essences of messengers,
come to bid you bind.
Ever all, secret, small,
water rushing lines.
Full moon mocks of suns engaged,
in celestial all.
Too still, The hill stands, at will.
Purity of the bee,
has begun to show.
All of white, in a tight,
cluster of the glow.
Erogenous, will let us,
begin to see the flow.
Shimmering, in a ring,
knowledge of the know.
Too still, The hill stands, at will.
Time is now, to allow,
the stars to be obeyed.
That blossom sweet, that will entreat,
in a newborn age.
Life of love, and pleasures of,
will behold the dove.
To soar free, beyond the sea,
and touch upon, above.
At two, still will stand, The Hill.
Christopher:
Your company is very pleasant. Your voice flows like honey from the
comb, soft and sweet. Your fingers play well upon my back. It
brings forth a new and exciting sensation to my mind. The wine is
very smoothing to the brain. It brings a happy state of mind. It
seems so simple to be happy. You radiate with love. You are so
beautiful. I love the way your golden hair flows about your
delicate features.
Fuchsia:
Thank you for your kind words. You are very handsome too.
[ Fuchsia takes Christopher's hand. Then looks into his eyes.
Christopher is innocently confused. Fuchsia gives Christopher
his very first kiss. Christopher is spell bound. ]
Fuchsia:
Oh, Christopher, how innocent you are. You are shaking like a
frightened little squirrel. Don't be afraid. Let me help you.
I will show you what it means to be a man. I will show you the
true meaning of manhood. Your journey shall end here on the
hill. I will make you a man. All you really need in this world
is someone to love.
Christopher:
Today has turned out better than I could ever have imagined. I
have found myself in love. I am rejoiced over such favoured
happenings. Fuchsia, I am overcome by your love.
[ Christopher sings "Ballad of Love". ]
[ Ballad of Love ]
There once was a lad, a young balladeer,
who road along many a mile.
And sing if he would, a tale of much sadness,
to those who would care to listen.
Then came as he did, upon such a kingdom,
where all was merry and gay.
And spied a young lassie, a maiden of maidens,
to which he did soon fall in love.
And as she spied him, love came upon her,
Cupid drove his arrow deep.
Yet she was a princess, daughter of the king,
their love would never be allowed.
Then by dark of night, they did steal away,
to be as one ever more.
While on their escape the young lad was killed,
now sorrow took her heart close to death.
And as she did kneel to her young laddie,
to give one last kiss of her love.
Then came the young laddie back to his living,
upon the sweet kiss of her love.
Then lived as they did, a life of much happiness,
and shared their sweet love with a child.
As years passed them by, the child grew and left,
to search out a life for himself.
And they lived contented the rest of their lives,
with love that could not be compared.
Fuchsia:
Oh, Christopher, that was such a beautiful ballad. The song really touched
my heart. And the song had such a positive ending. Love shall conquer all.
It makes me happy that you are feeling this way. And I too am in love with
you. Together we can build a new life for ourselves, with all the happiness
and feelings for the future. The wind must surely be in our favour for this
is my fantasy come true. This is my course, my destiny. Finally I have
found my one and only true love. I look forward to the day when we are
lovers and I'm with child.
[ Fuchsia sings "See How Thee Fare". ]
[ See How Thee Fare ]
I have seen the light of the day,
making its way across the dawn.
I have seen the dark of the night,
in all its fright across the dusk.
Sing a song of happiness.
Sing a song of sorrow.
Stay with me upon the hill.
See how thee fare, tomorrow.
I have heard the song of the dove,
telling its love of nature.
I have heard the cry of the child,
screaming wild upon the birth.
Sing a song of happiness.
Sing a song of sorrow.
Stay with me upon the hill.
See how thee fare, tomorrow.
I have known, so gentle a man,
feeding his lamb, the chosen son.
I have known, the cruels of man,
who don't understand, no reasons won.
Sing a song of happiness.
Sing a song of sorrow.
Stay with me upon the hill.
See how thee fare, tomorrow.
I have felt, the joy of life,
without any strife, along the way.
I have felt, the sadness of death,
sinking beneath a longer day.
Sing a song of happiness.
Sing a song of sorrow.
Stay with me upon the hill.
See how thee fare, tomorrow.
Christopher:
I am torn between my love for you and my want to know my own identity.
On one hand, it is very pleasing to be in love with you. Our future
sounds very bright. It would be wonderful to settle down here on the
hill and have a family. On the other hand, I still require an answer
to my question of who am I and what does it means to be a man. Oh,
how fate doth torture me so. For now, I think that I must continue
my search for myself. So I should go soon. With the idea, that once
I have found myself I could possibly return here to the hill.
Fushia:
I am sorry to see you leave but if you must go, you must go. But I
shall surely wait for the day that you return to the hill. Goodbye,
Christopher, my loved one.
[ Christopher exits to the left. The scene fades to darkness. ]
The Christ Offer - Act IV Scene II
[ In the early evening in the meadow. A beautiful rainbow to the right
has replaced the storm. The old painter is facing the audience and
wears a proud smile of accomplishment. The easel is facing towards the
audience, with a white sheet covering it. The Blackbird sits perched
upon the peak of the easel. The artist bows gracefully and presents
his masterpiece. It is a painting in endless dimension of the painter
painting a picture of himself, painting a picture of himself, painting
a picture of himself. etc... ]
The Christ Offer - Act IV Scene III
[ The mine figure is sleeping, He wakes and sits up. He ponders over his
predicament. He stands up to survey the situation. He walks over to the
wall and examines it again, but finds that all the walls are gone. He
stands motionless for a moment, then hops and dances joyfully to
signify his final freedom. He casually strolls around in a circle and
exits to the left. ]
The Christ Offer - Act V Scene I
Narrator:
[ It is night, the stars and the full moon shine bright in the sky,
for this journey come full circle, returning to the meadow of
original latitude. Christopher is sitting on the old bench of iron
and wood, now lined with hay. There is a total silence and a
feeling of loneliness about. Christopher sings "Dreams". ]
[ Dreams ]
Soft and gentle her flowing tone,
which from within comes life, unknown.
Secrets slowly spoken by,
and once the while the gleam in eye.
Does shine to me, in lovings' sake,
to build up thunder, prove earthquake.
'Tis shyly scented mystery,
that none can grasp entirely.
The wine and bread content her now,
but future changes spirits, how?
That paradise that fantasy,
was once the time and life of me.
But now 'tis faded, grey and off,
to sadness, still, I loved her once.
Where, oh, where did essence go,
it came, it left, as streams must flow.
The yearning, longing in my heart,
drives hard my gut to bleeding part.
Sometimes to seem that life's no more,
than simple dreams gone by the shore.
Christopher:
I have journeyed many leagues on this my birthday and have encountered many
a perception of life. But I am running into the madness of my mind and have
come full circle. Such is the ill offering offer. How can the meaning of
life be expressed in mere words? Yet words are all I have to weave the
definition of myself. I am lost out of the love with only the contradicting
contradictions. Machines do not give me reason, only facts and figures. I
have not found myself in the preparations except for their ill effect on my
mind.
The old ways have done nothing but cursed me as a radical. And what of my foolish
friend speaking forth of answers that no one could understand. It would seem
that there is no place for me except in my own mind. Such is the play of my
mind. Am I a man without a past? Without a present or future? The un-man. There
is no black or white. No start or finish within the middle of my mind. My brain
does not conceive pleasure in the development of a thought. It is either
there or not. Am I destined to sail into the oblivion of my mind without an
answer?
My eyes scan the sky in its shadowy darkness while I think. I try to put things
in an order, organized, into perspective with the reality of life. It all seems
so abstract. The events that have happened in my past may as well have never
happened. It is likened to faded memories without the truth. Although it has
been truth, it seems as though it was not reality. There is no feeling of truth,
no emotion or sentiment, to help me recall the these experiences or knowledge
of these events. Because of this, it is hard to believe or have faith in these
events. To wonder that I have lived so long and actually experienced life is
like somehow out of touch, beyond the grasp of any past.
To remember my life is like looking at the history of the past of someone else.
When I am put into certain circumstances, it is like playing a role. Acting
according to what I want it to be told like In the future. In this way I am
no definable entity or personality. When I stop to think back upon myself and
try to categorize or understand my actions, I am too variable. Always changing
my character to suit that of all, yet that of nothing. Even as I speak. I am
thinking of how to rewrite the text in the edited version. Yes, to somehow
make my oration sound better, more enlightening.
Oh, to have such a mind made-up of different tints of grey. It all seems to be
a bad dream, a nightmare. In this world today, how is man supposed to find out
who he is. At least I have found some hay to make this old bench more
comfortable. This is very depressing. If I courageously strive for something
and nothing becomes of it, then what will become of me? I have tried
desperately to find an answer, and have found nothing. As fate would have it,
the cards are stacked against me. I seem to be not of strong enough will.
Time has overcome me. Things move too fast for me. The great circle of
knowledge confuses me. Finally, my party is over. To what fashion am I?
In truth madness is upon me. The stars shall shine bright in the sky, but
not for me. Sleep shall be my only answer, for I know no other. Yes, sleep.
Come join me.
[ Christopher gives a yawn and falls off to sleep. There is total silence.
Suddenly, in a puff of white smoke, Mandrol reappears. He is now adorned in
platinum. His hair and beard are now sparkling white. Energy radiates
from his presence. He stands in dominance and his voice carries to the
subconscious. ]
Mandrol:
Sleep gentle, sweet Christopher, for thy travels have bared thee hard. It is
a fact of life that if you attempt to walk in a straight line, not seeing
the horizon your trip will eventually bring you full circle. Ease thy mind
of all worries and enter into melancholy dreams, for you do deserve such
tranquility's. Though I may have been harsh with you, fooling you into
knowledge, for I do oversee this squirrel, I love you and I would be proud
to call you my son.
Christopher, your travels have been likened to that of a raindrop. You rise
from the ground with the suns' energy. You float in the sky, wandering
unknown, in the wind. Then you begin to grow larger and larger, gathering
knowledge in the form of moisture. This culminates and binds to your
person. Still you wander, pondering over your experiences. Then comes time
for you to make a decision, to come to terms with yourself. You have grown
to your peak. You begin to descend, making your journey to the land. You
fall swiftly, excitedly not knowing where your travels will take you.
Coming down on the window of the world, a pane of glass transparent as
your soul. It is time to choose a direction, but you are drawn down by
the great force of gravity. A force inside you compels you forward. As you
roll, you leave behind parts of your life. The pane may be dusty and you
pick up small particles. They begin to darken your soul. You are no
longer pure and clear. You get smaller and smaller. You meet with another
drop of rain. You join as one. Your lives are the same. But then somewhere
along the path you lose the other drop. It seems a fantasy. You roll down
off the window to the ground. Here you lose the particles of dust. They
joined with the rest of the soil. Until once again, you are one with all
water and with the ground, the sky and the wind. You are element. You are
life. You are love. You are man.
[ Mandrol sings "The Offer". ]
[ The Offer ]
Interstellar revelations,
winding logic's concentration,
set clocks time to now.
Un-atomic radiation,
causing species activation,
heads turn up to bow.
Transcendental realization,
rushing siblings inspiration,
bells heard ringing low.
Circumventing inner yearning,
heart felt vision, outer burning,
voyage shall be done.
Philosophic prophesizing,
moments natal sacrificing,
offer forth the son.
Universal understanding,
perfect knowledge everlasting,
all to be as one.
Inverting of humanity,
converting life's integrity,
love and faith entwine.
Symmetrical infinity,
prodigy of ability,
straight and true the line.
Immaculate tranquility,
instilled in hopes serenity,
coming of the sign.
Mandrol:
Oh, Christopher, you will know the reason behind today's events. For today
was the fourth not the fifth, so you see you were a day early. But now it
is the dawning of five over four and you will come to know that the wind
is nothing more than the mind with its inverted double you. Christopher,
you will know yourself now, for it takes a little madness to be sane.
[ As Mandrol kneels to blow in Christopher's ear, the bell begins to toll.
Mandrol disappears in a puff of white smoke. The grey squirrel climbs out
of the oak tree to rest upon the crest of the bench. Christopher is
awakened. He quickly stands, his face an body glow with energy. His arms
stretch out in dominance. ]
Christopher:
I know, I know, I know. You hear me, world. I know who I am. I am me. It is
so simple. I am anything I want to be. I am nothing, yet I am everything. I
am beginning, middle and I am end. I am the play, I am the story. I am the
journey. I am the poem. I am infinite and yet finite. I was born to live
and I live to be alive. I am made in the eyes of my own fashion. I am flame
and smoke. I am lit. I have found that which hides in the corner of the
wind. And I am known. I am the needle in the haystack. I am Squirrel,
Blackbird, Dog, Fire, Storm and Rainbow. I am painting of mixtures of me,
I am the knowledge of past, present and future. I am humble and I am loud.
I am mad and I am sane. I am the raindrop, pure and clean. I am nature, I
am the universe. I am life, I am love, I am reality and I am me.
[ Christopher sings "I Am Me". ]
[ I Am Me ]
I Am Me, definitively,
loved and hated.
I Am Me, definitively,
trusted and debated.
I Am Me, definitively,
scholar and fool.
I Am Me, definitively,
exception and rule.
You are thee, inside of me,
for I to see, and ye to be.
I Am Me, inside of thee,
for ye to see, and I to be.
I Am Me, definitively,
day and night.
I Am Me, definitively,
weakness and might.
I Am Me, definitively,
right and wrong.
I Am Me, definitively,
here and gone.
You are thee, inside of me,
for I to see, and ye to be.
I Am Me, inside of thee,
for ye to see, and I to be.
The Christ Offer - Act V Scene II
[ The Ballet. An improvisation in Shock. All the actors in the play
participate. For contemplation, imagination, audience participation
and for the play to conclude. Christopher stands atop a circular
monolith in the centre of the stage while all the other actors perform
personalized movements about the theatre. An array of coloured
lights are focused in random patterns to highlight the actors.
The chaotic movement of the performers slowly transforms itself
into a revolving circle from left to right. The actors form a full
choir and sing "The Revelation". ]
[ The Revelation ]
do, do, do, do.
re, re, re, re.
mi, mi, mi, mi.
fa, fa, fa, fa.
so, so, so, so.
la, la, la, la.
ti, ti, ti, ti.
do, do, do, do.
The Christ Offer - The Epilogue
Narrator:
[ Triumphantly, the theatre, with its uncountable offers, ends in one of
solitude. The stage is completely bare. Mandrol walks out from the back
of the centre of the stage. He is wearing blue jeans and a white
tee-shirt. He is no longer wearing long hair and beard. His makeup has
been hastily wiped off. He sings "Your New Abode". ]
[ Your New Abode]
Shining lights are fastened out,
beyond the colored trim.
Smoking remnants of the past,
have seen the cause within.
Flowered cosmic rays of death,
come bind the mass you're on.
Smiles sigh to quake the earth,
now passions feel is gone.
Simple answers are exclaimed,
for shadows bend the card.
Chain the stage with metal black,
to keep the force retard.
To the gates you think shall go,
the journey's never made.
You shall wait for summoning,
but no one calls your name.
Smothered in your righteous vows,
but now the truth is known.
Paradise was never there,
now earth is your new home.
Conjure, conscience, middles end,
but can this be just lore?
Finally your ship has docked,
to sail the sea no more.
Throughout life you proved the fool,
believed there must be one.
You've been tricked by livings fear,
but now there is no son.
Logic's shot and killed at once,
the force was just a dream.
Where is hope when death may come,
so tragic may it seem.
Trends that are so natural,
still lay to be the wrong.
When will sight become the eye,
to give the answer strong.
Energy is not in fate,
and time has yet to come.
Nature stands the ultimate,
the true force now has won.
Now the sign has struck you down,
to live within your frame.
Shall you be remembered in,
the last form of your name.
Stone is raw but little's said,
no choice is left to thee.
Who cares now for you bare none,
importance not to be.
Universal consequence,
the land will have no wait.
Sadness was the break of day,
the life was ten and eight.
Though your past has been quite good,
the future will not hold.
Memories will fade away,
though actions have been bold.
Heroes lose their faces fast,
the wind will blow away.
Others come to take your place,
forever they'll not stay.
Soon they come to rest with you,
now be with worm and toad.
Melancholy, yet to sleep,
in sweet, your new abode.
Mandrol:
The attitude of gratitude expressed in longitude by the multitude
could be construed by the magnitude of the latitude to conclude in
solitude, Thus I Am.
About
The Druid Arthur George McMaster II is a Canadian Playwright, Musician and Composer
from Tillsonburg, Ontario, Canada. He is best known for his unique avant-garde musical style
and compositions. His first double album, "The Christ Offer," is based on this play of
the same name written by McMaster himself. There are actually two double albums, one
instrumental version and a vocal version. His sound is a NEW and FRESH pleasing mix
of Colorful Tones and Rhythms with Changing Dynamics all set to a different ORIGINAL
Beat, all in 5/4 time signature. The genre of his music is an interesting mixture of
Classical, Jazz, Rock, Folk, Pop.
Some background information on his artistic endeavors: He writes all the music and
lyrics by himself and he plays all the instruments himself. He has been working
on "The Christ Offer", as a play and as an operetta for many years. It is only recently
that he has had the time to devote to the production and recording of the albums. He
relies heavily on his SQ80 Cross Wave Synthesizer and his MT-32 Tone Generator to produce
the instruments used in the playing and recording of all of the music. https://mcmaster.net
Official Website
