The Curator Poem by Vidya Pandarinath

Memory is a massive museum-mansion
And the mind is its reluctant curator,
Classing and preserving with apprehension;
And if well designated, is a master porter


Harmony, percepts and senses delicate,
And thaws tactile, slurred or smothered,
Simmer down into the deducing predicate:
Even those which, pricked, or never bothered.


A caretaker, well-trained and disciplined hard,
Might turn into a great prompter of ease
Guiding, dictating to avoid, skip and discard
All that is profane, yet misleads to please.


All those for whom life is a set game -
Much matters if it is one of dice
Or of chess, since either chance -frame
Or choice, deduces the result to rejoice.