Designer of his own demise.
One he surely would despise.
One as certain to occur,
When sons become what fathers were.
It’s frequent in chronology,
To reconcile technology,
With the spirit, with the mind.
Father and son, they agree,
But for the how and the degree.
It could have gone another way.
The man that could, on full display.
It’s often painful, often hard,
Deciding what to discard.
Discard he did, discard he will,
To move it once and move it still.
Discard the father, he did not.
This is what the son forgot.
He learned to win, he learned to be,
What father taught, son learned from he.
A devouring bond after all.
The father willed his own downfall.
The father lost, in a way.
A victim of his son’s betray.
The loss was more than it seemed.
Through his son he was redeemed.
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