I have lived on fragments of his young memory,
Ever since I had presupposed father for my life
From awareness in the swing of a cloth cradle,
As  a  reasonably deducible  a priori conclusion.

That I am a fragment from the fact of his living.
The fact of my birth is a fragment of my father
A fragment from his life as a close-ended truth
To come back cyclically each year of my birth .

(recalling on 67th year of my birth a mere figment of my father who had died when I was one year old and of whom I have no living memories)


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