Woodstock Dreams
What is it about time that drives us into the past?
Like ripples through space
We yearn to become part of something we were not.
Perhaps this is what it is like to be human
To want what we did not have
To experience what has not been experienced
To live in times gone by.
I search my heart and find these dreams
Visions fill my mind's eye
Perhaps it is the incarnation of a spirit
Who lives its life through me--
Perhaps it is desire
To be free from the trappings of a society
That crumbles and decays
Right before my eyes.
Let me have my dreams for they are mine
To pick from each brain cell
Like wild flowers in a meadow.
I boldly dare to hold these visions
Within my soul's deep safe
One day they will be set free
As I let everyone see the person I call "me".