The mud of Woodstock

Three long score have I stumbled forward in vain

Weighed down by indifference and mediocrity

Adrift in the glare of self pity and inactivity

A mechanical being devoid of sympathy

Squinting in the bright light of drudgery and gain

Pushing forward to avoid the task masters disdain

Adjusting here some grease there no big deal

Powering the load like some cog in the wheel

With rounded teeth chipped from the strain

A precision component with a heart of steel

No room for tears no room to feel

Wakened from this nightmare I put the paradigm to rest

Twisting this reality inside out I try my best

To return to the living and Love before it is too late

And smile again and try to relate

Only to realize the mud of Woodstock still squishes between my toes.

Christopher Cole