A Lasting Song

No great bad philosophers will come again.
The worst of them has spoken. Now, no more.
Their mad bad words for only bad sad men,
Like rusty leaves, scatter to the low last ledge
Where winds of reason sweep them o’er the edge.
Descarte and Kant break and crumble, flake
And fall, embracing nothing, un-awake.
Their twisted turns of thought, identified,
No longer can man’s mental life deride,
No longer leave him lost in mysteries,
Who now knows joy of self and truly sees.
The Lamp of Life is burning bright and strong;
Ayn Rand has separated right from wrong;
The standard, Man, is now a lasting song,
And we who sing it rise up into day
With pride of mind in full, triumphant sway!

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