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Ghosts We Have Deposed
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"Lost and Found"     A sonnet with music by Cass von Braun (music to come)





S E T T I N G

A multidimensional woman must once again act at the behest of fate to advance the state of human being against relentless forces seeking balance. Monique, Samuel and Bernard embody three spirit beings wandering through time who encounter an opportunity for enacting the ritual sacrifices that will free them to move along to the next level of existence.

KRIS is a director who has cast Monique in an upcoming play.

SAM is Reverend Samuel Parris, familiar to audiences from history and Arthur Miller's "The Crucible." During his puritanical period in colonial New England, he had been a stern and puritanical adjudicator. Now enacting the same role, but broken by eternity yet here shown to remain relatively insensitive to the needs of his fellow travellers in cosmic affairs (being less than 400 years removed from the sanguine existence) he is habitually rather dry, self-absorbed and preoccupied with the interests of his own pocket -- weak, but no longer wildly corruptible or vindictive.

BERNARD is Bernard Baran, a recent martyr in a late 20th Century witch hunt in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. A teacher's aide at the Early Childhood Development Center, Baran was falsely accused of child molestation in a case with pronounced homophobic components. After his arrest and a scandalously perfunctory trial (a process lasting a total of only three months, he was sentenced to three life sentences and thrown in prison, where over time his health was compromised by poor conditions and lack of medical treatment. More than twenty years later, he was completely exonerated and released, and won a $400,000 settlement despite the state's continued denial of liability and refusal to expunge his record. In failing health, Mr. Baran died suddenly at his home in Fitchburg, Massachusuetts on September 1, 2014.


L Y R I C

Lost & Found

Again, another trace beneath the dust
This one most unsurpassingly pristine,
Of artifacts undreamt by human lust,
Revealing works both sacred and machined
When time, by measures, 'scapes the rotten tooth
Of age, our gift is we may apprehend
Lost treasures that, like vibrant wells of youth,
May yet in pools shine close round ev'ry bend

The rare delights of history's ancient stores,
As fresh and sweet as wonder's natural child
As ever as were bright, these curling shores
Shall prove creation endless, and 'tis wild
And real, with stars for eyes and planets skin
For outer space is here. And what's alive . . . is kin!













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