The Devil at Woodstock

I was a mere sixteen that Summer dayWe all piled in a beat-up car and droveTo Woodstock, or someplace we had been toldThat a great spectacle was to occur—An earth-shaking event where all the starsThat lit a generation’s sky would beTogether, like an astronomicalAlignment—all their energies would merge,And give voice to the coming brighter dawnWe all felt was awakening in those times—A spirit free of all the bitter strifeOur parents’ lives had known, and free of allThe forms of tyranny; the little rowsOf doll-houses in suburbs, where the chainsOf smug conformity, in silence grow,And rigid, time-encrusted old beliefs,That led the world in mad pursuit of powerTo war and to the very brink of doom;Again sat mute as merchants of that tradeEnslaved the beautiful Promethean fireOf Reason to their grim and violent ends—Yes, even as we blithely breathed the airOf Summer’s freedom in those sunny fields,Across the world, in steamy jungle hells,Our brothers bled and died and went insane,And only last Summer, our cities burned,When the last one of those great prophets fell,And hatred, like a cataclysmic storm,Loomed over the horizon of our lives;And though we heard the voice of our own kindProclaim the god-like feat that had been done,As they stood on the face of a new world,Across the radios and TV screensOf our whole world, the weak and crackling soundFell as a lover’s words, when love is gone—The bygone dreams of days that were no more.For we were a new generation bornNot for the narrow realm of ordered thought,The world of soulless men and cold machines,And empty phrases that no one believed,But piously repeated, just the same;Of gods who punished or rewarded menAs they obeyed like herded sheep, or not—No! We were born to be the golden ones,Free from all law save what was in our hearts,And free from Time, but what each moment gaveTo pleasure mind and body without guilt–That greatest of the chains of tyranny.And so we came to the appointed placeAnd joined the thousands, walking on the roadsLike pilgrims to some mystic, holy shrine,And I became as if one of that throngAnd lost myself in that great, surging crowd,Becoming like a leaf born on the windsThat came from where we knew not, but which droveOur minds and bodies on as with a tide,Where thought and feeling melted into one,A moment with no future and no past,Where I was free to passively observe,Without the mirror of falsely judging eyesAs if truly opened for the first time;And I saw many things bizarre and new;The wild profusion of free-growing hair,And every possible exotic stateAnd hue of clothing, or of nakedness;And people dancing mid the Summer cornTo waves of mystical, hypnotic tones,And odors of hashish and cannabisWhich sweetly drifted over all that place,Like incense in some ancient Doric rite;And just beyond the tumult of this scene,Upon a path that led into the woods,I noticed a lone figure sitting there,With such a placid look upon his face,Yet so intense, as if by force unseen,I was drawn to him, and as I came near,It seemed as if a gentle light played ‘roundHis head and brightened with his widening smile,And I could not resist a certain charmThat seemed to flow forth from his very form,For he was beautiful in that strange wayThat blends the essence of woman and man;Long, flowing locks and penetrating eyes,Broad forhead, and that knowing, smiling mouth;“What brings you here?” he said, as I stood there,Not knowing what he meant, and so I said,“Do you mean here with you, or do you meanThe here that is this general event,Or here upon this earth to walk a time?”“Good answer!” he replied, and with a laugh,Invited me to sit down by his side.As we looked out upon that human sea,The magic of his speech, like music, charmedMy soul into believing that we wereAbove all place and time, and free to seeThe hidden truths that guide the human heart.“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said,With almost a paternal love and pride,“No single day in all those ancient times,No pious rite or pagan spectacleOf Greece or Rome, no conquering warrior host,No angry revolutionary mob,Or zealous movement, marching in the streetsWill change the world as will this day,” he said,And smiled as he stared far away, it seemed,And I said, “who can tell what noble dreamsAre sleeping in the minds that gather here?”“Nobility?” he said, with laughing sneer,“No, pleasure is the only god who reignsToday, as it will rule the Age to come—And he shall raise the Self above all else,And make the universe revolve aroundThe sovran being, as if it were God,And they will drink the power of that wine,As each to each they smiling pass the cup,Until they have forgotten that which onceHad bound their souls together, and the wordsWhich echo from the future and the past,And even that great being who exists,In whom they had believed in innocence,That great, eternal tyrant of the soul,They will deny, or jealously reject,As if he were the hated enemy.”He fell into a long and silent smile,“You speak of God,” I said, in reverent tone,More out of fear for where these thoughts might lead,He said, “He has no power here on earth,Save what the minds of men have been deceivedTo forfeit of their natural, true birthright—For they are born of that same flesh and bloodAs all the creatures of this lovely earth,And share with them the same deep, primal urgeTo live and breathe each moment to the full,And love and recreate in all the joy|That mind and spirit lend to pleasure’s sway;And merging with that universal danceOf Life, they find an immortalityOf joy and pleasure, ever born anew;The Great Deceiver would have them believeThat they must sacrifice for some rewardThat never was, and robs them of the thingThat makes each moment like a paradise.”And his words lulled my soul like opium,As I gazed out across the teeming fields;A myriad of beautiful young soulsWere sharing thoughts and feelings as a one,All swaying to the same entrancing tones,As if one, powerful wave that could rise up,And sweep the world with it’s all-cleansing force,And he said, “Yes, and they will come of age,Inheriting the reigns of power in the world,But still the freedom of this moment will,Like half-remembered dreams, enchant their souls,Then cold necessity will intervene,Few will to their precious ideals stay true,But rather justify their wild pursuitOf money and material things, as meansTo that imagined earthly paradiseThat they believed themselves, alone, deserve;And some will seek the power to imposeThe empire of their will upon the world,And many will uphold them in their greed,For they will seem to gain by loyalty,And from the flattery of their self-love.But as their power and riches multiply,So does their taste for greater pleasure growIn more insipid, mindless decadence,So that those lords of plunder who exploitThe blood and sweat of the vast, aching world,Must feed them ever more to satisfyTheir lust and ever more rapacious greed;And after their own lands have been sucked dry,They will, by age-old logic, turn to war,That ultimate corrupter of the soul—And all will cheer as victims are contrivedAnd hatred for the enemy inflamed—Their hearts will harden then, to the most cruelAnd bestial methods of the ancient days—For weakness will become the greatest sin—But the most passionate in their vehemenceWill be the pious ones who once confessedThat noble faith of human love and peace,For love had long since vanished from their hearts,That puling, weak and poisonous ideaWhich plagued the world for two millennia,That all are destined to an equal worth,And with some innate sacredness are born—For it was never so in Nature’s realm,Where strength and beauty are their own reward,And mankind, lacking this necessity,Will never rise to all that he can be—Terrible and beautiful in his might,Conquering all the universe he sees!”When he had finished, something in his eyesSeemed as if burning with unnatural fire,That I had never seen, yet chilled my soul,For I was impotent to answer him,As I stood on the … This is a public episode. 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