Hegel Hegel Hegel

Hegel, Hegel, Hegel;

What must I say of thee?

To know, to know truly,

The shape of a tree.

In Winter the frame revealed,
By Spring clothed by it's leaves,
In Summer fully formed,
It maybe in Fall felled.
To keep me warm,
To warm my bones,
Bones formed in my Mother's womb,
She now long gone,
The dust she became,
The dust she always was.
Life moves on changing
Geist flows on languid
What you see is not what you get,
Hegel, Hegel, Hegel,
You were true once,
But no more,
Superseded, suspended, supplanted,
Reprimanded,
By smaller minds,
Like mine,
Aufheben to you,
Always there negated,
We stare at thee Hegel,
Like the man hanged on a tree,
Only yours felled by me,
Your words like the leaves,
Raked into a pile,
And burned like your bones,
Kindled by hell's fire,
Keeping mine warm,
In the warm afterglow.
I drink a stout gestalt to thee
Hegel, Hegel, Hegel.

Jim Hime c1999