Boredom

Sit down and meditate, I am being told.
Watch the flow and withdraw.
I do that; have done it;
Have done it so often that i fear
I have begun confuse where the line ends
between boredom and peace.
" Get over the grooves of the habits of language", I am being told.
In trying to stick labels to states of mind you are losing sight of perspectives.Awareness begins when you stop analyzing
between boredom and peace.

And so begins
my affair with Boredom
The pages of my diary overflow
with tales of boredom every day.

On a foggy morning, gentle; it listens to the sounds behind the curtain of silence;
On an intrepid , sullenly hot noon-day,
it intuits the secret of pollination from butterflies and moths.

Boredom arrives without a warning
and departs without a noise.
Leaves casually without a drama,
but leaving as it does,
opens trails of things in a disarray.

Boredom too, has its way
into the comfort of a chaos.
It does not storm in ;
quietly opens a door that was locked;
refuses to heed the warning on the door,
and sneaks in.

Boredom too has a character,
seductive, alluring, defiant of norms,
the beauty and a power of deviation,
destroying gently,
with no urge to create anything anew,
a compelling silence,
an opulent charm
of a village-buffalo
wading in a noon-kissed pond.

Boredom, I greet you with open arms,
You have taught me the language of irrelevance,
a throw-back into a world of a static whirl.