The Loom of History (Hegelian Dialectic)
The spirit wakes within the clash of steel,
A thesis met by fire and by storm;
The turning of the great and heavy wheel,
Where old ideas take on a newer form.
No single truth can stand against the tide,
But melts into its opposite and dies;
Until the warring fragments both subside,
And from their ash a higher truth shall rise.
The march of time is not a random flight,
But Reason seeking out its own bright face;
Through every dark and revolutionary night,
It carves a path for all the human race.
The Absolute is reached through toil and pain,
As every loss becomes a greater gain.
We've moved from the garden to the grand march of history
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