The music spilled out in gushes

like the insistent rain that fell

across the patchy grass and

muddy fields of change,

where thousands stood

and laid around naked

in their Garden of Eden,

and filled themselves with drugs

and with the intoxication

of love, flowers and new ways of being,

signalled with gesture

and with heart.


While the rumble

of war and protest

echoed across the land,

and far away bodies were

laid in body bags,

here the bodies felt

the deep and urgent beats of

new beginnings and peace,

pumped out through bass

and guitar and drums,

throughout the awe struck days

and in the mystery of the nights,

as flesh laid nestled

with flesh and souls

burnt bright for just

these few days in

this time, this season, of revolution.




Convocation of a generation

looking for a new spirit,

for a new age,

when all else,

it seemed to them,

had failed,

except love.


But did they find it?