
Here is the reader's poem:
Be careful what you say to others.
Like an email it cannot be retrieved once uttered.
A remark, once made, pops out of the deepest recess of the memory of the recipient at the most unlikely moment.
It is never diminished by the passage of time.
Why must the memory, so useful and essential for everyday life, have this wicked side to it?

The mind seems to wait until one is at rest from everyday occupation, and then from nowhere out slips this wicked barb.
The question for me that remains unanswered is: for what purpose does this happen?
Is the old person with dementia still subjected to the regurgitation of a past remark?
The mystery of life may be in the Universe, but what manipulating force controls the memory?
What happened to all those short lived memories of the young killed in their prime?
Is there something similar to The Cloud where all memory is collected and stored for ever?
Will we ever be able to
tap into this source? If it even exists ...
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