Blue Moon

by

Brett Paufler



Karakal
Being Once in a Blue Moon


(Being a synopsis of sorts of James Hilton's Lost Horizon -- the story of Shangri La.)


The scene is set.
The story unfolds,
Of a friend of a friend of friend...

Back in thirty odd three
Baskul fell to the mujahideen,
And our heroes escape turns out not to be.

An airplane trip done in real time
Ends in the death...
At the foot of Karakal

Through the Mountain,
Over the mountain
Hither we go to Shangri La

A welcoming dinner,
And welcoming words...

But the gist is clear,
Trapped in the Valley of the Moon...
Forever...
Or at least for a fortnight or two.

Settling in for the score,
Written off as dead,
They wait.
Nothing to do but tour the place.

Art and beauty,
Museum and more,
All enshrined in wisdom,
Tranquility and peace.

A poolside garden...
Tea for two
In the quiet pale moonlight,
While Shangri La mourns its own
Here the fallen are never forgotten...

So, a forced holiday, it is to be...
Trapped! with Chang as the headmaster
Everything answered but the questions most dear.

Moderation in all things, it would appear.
Moderation in religion, in law...
And even in the mystery,
Of the place,
Shangri La.

Of the four travelers,
Introductions 'round:
Conway our hero
Mallison, his lackey
Miss Brinklow, the missionary, no wife
While Barnard is simple the American...

The American.
What more can be said?
What more need be said?

Only no!
Of America? Yes.
But of Barnard...
Only, no.

A thief. A crook.
His papers are forged.
Something of high finance...
Stocks... or bonds,
I confess my ignorance,
But what can it matter.
To lose is to fail...
That is explanation enough.

But we were talking of another mystery...
And the mystery may be,
"When the game's going to pieces,"
Where do you go?
To the Lamasery my friend...
To the Lamasery

I'm sure you know what that means...

A history revealed...
Father Perrault, the High Lama...
A missionary himself,
From ages ago...

For 200 years he ruled...
Shangri La...
Under the moon...
Karakal...

A curious mixture of yoga,
Tangatse berry --
I know not the taste of this fruit --
And esthetics,
Grant him mastery of this world,
But not quite over the next.

Immortality, peace, abundance...
Shangri La my Heaven.
Shangri La my home.

Invited on purpose,
Recruited at random
To replenish dwindling numbers
And to these...
For these...
The virtues of Heaven...
Immortality, peace, abundance...

But what does one offer to one who is already dead?
To one who died in the war long ago?
A chance to yet lie,
In death's cold embrace?

Under the moon,
At death's dying door,
Until it is time to live...
Be reborn...
Come out from the cacoon...
And start life anew.

But first,
Conway must know,
What brought him here,
In retrospect...

And is it just me?
Or does Lo Tsen,
The Asiatic,
The erotic beauty,
Stir passions at the merest of mention?

A love interest in a monastery?
I'd like to show her some moderation
(If you know what I mean)
To fill her vessel with contentment
Overflowing, abundant
But in moderation...
But of course

And then it passes that all will stay
Some to escape prison
Some to start a mission
Some because they have no desire
And one because that is simply the way...
And like it or not, he has no say.

The consolation--of course--
Is the lovely Lo Tsen
She who removes "hunger" without food
To hold, but never to own
To know, but never to taste
A kiss! Dream on... but never... not more

And I suppose,
If you're going to let the pleasures of the flesh
Dangle about unconsumed but fulfilled
Then there might as well be untold riches,
Gold!
In them thar hills...

But for better or worse
That's where it will stay.
Amid all of these illusionary goals--
The wealth...
The sex...
The knowledge...
And endless age
Comes unexpectedly one more

Power, the gift.
Conway is to rule them all,
Shangri La
The heir apparent,
To rule through the storm,
Civilization's decay.

And then in a flash,
Or the ring of a bell,
Perrault is dead,
And Conway, indeed, is ruler of all

Shangri La?
Is it?
With no one to guide him?
To show Conway the way?

But who can keep a warden,
But himself?

And of the prisoners?
Mallory is off with Lo Tsen.
Damn the rest!
He's done with the place...
And them.
He's going to save the maiden...
From her maidenhood
I guess...

But unable to persevere...
Failing the test...
Mallory never makes the pass
He does not have what it takes to leave...
Or return...
Once again,
Shangri La.

Don't ask me why?
Suddenly, for Conway it is time to go, too.

But then for the girl, even I'd leave Shangri La.
Or rather, Shangri La would follow her anywhere.
But that's where she already is...

Funny how that is...
The way words slip...
Conway, hero to the boy...
Loses the girl.

And wisdom too!
Let's not forget that...
If ever we had...

Or perhaps...
Having fallen into the dream,
It is now time to fall out,
Over the mountains and drift silently away

The wrap around fits nicely,
As they so often do.
No proof.
No confirmation.
Just little bits...
Innuendo.

Nothing too much to seem rigged.
Or finagled...
Ending in hope...
Yes, hope...

I hope he finds his blue moon
And then me, mine...
Only quicker...
And easier...
And much faster, too...
If it's all set to rhyme...



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