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The Curator

Rating: 5.0
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.
Thursday, March 4, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: care

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4/10/2021 10:11:58 PM #