This is a late Fathers’ Day dedication to my Dad, who died almost three years ago.

We were two divergent thoughts
That made up a paradox
Two theorems following
The same proof
Our trajectories crossed but
Not necessarily at the same time
We were two parallel lines
That did not obey Euclid

Our rough destinies were
Variations on a theme
Played by the same maestros
We were puppets on our own strings
Moving in unison
Powered by the same story

We read the same map on
Two separate routes
That  never merged

In the end only our silences
Had something in common



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