Page 24 - Contrast1966

pan

From his cave Pan could see the highway. He didn't realize what

it was, only that it was. Much as many of us do not know what life
is, only that we exist. Large vehicles of some sort had at one time

traveled it constantly. At night, unaware of his own existence, he
excitedly watched the lights whizz by.

Once he ventured onto the' road and played his flute. The cars

stopped, their occupants stunned at seeing the satyr. He had played

for hours, presenting a concert, a more beautiful one than those

presented by men. Truly a great crowd had gathered. The amazed

city folk, sickened and bored with their lives, stood hypnotized by

the melody he played on his flute. It was the same melody he had

played at the Creation, on the Ark, to the Greeks, at the first
Christmas, even in the dark hull of a ship bound for the New World.

But instead of enjoying his music as a phenomenon of nature,
the people desired it as if he were an entertainer subject to their

whims. They Sent men to capture him, as if he could be caught

and kept like a pet or a slave. They wished to dominate him, as

a noble does a serf, or a ruler the ruled. The people were greedy,

never satisfied, always in a hurry, always gruff, ill-mannered. Pan
had seen the pattern before.

For for ty-five years Pan did not go near the highway. Then one
day the noises from the road ceased, and Pan wondered why.

oon he' saw a puffing cloud and presently there came a tre-
mendous rumbling. cared, Pan ran back to his cave.

The next week the satyr re-eme~ged into the world, a different
world. Even the air seemed different, heavier. Still there was no
one on the highway.

Astonished, he walked up the roadway, his hoofs burning on

the hot macadam. When he reached the city limits he continued.

He did this because there were no people around to frighten him.
And once again he played his flute.

But the people in their underground shelters did not hear him.

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