The world spins fast, a dizzying blur,

But where did quiet stillness lurk?

The art of boredom, lost, unseen,

A canvas blank, a fertile sheen.

No tap-dancing minds to flee,

No urgent tasks to conquer me.

Just slow, deliberate, thoughtful pause,

A quiet hum of nature's laws.

The clock ticks slow, a gentle beat,

A symphony for weary feet.

No striving hard, no frantic race,

Just finding beauty in this space.

To let the thoughts drift, soft and free,

A gentle tide of memory.

A quiet mind, a peaceful soul,

The lost art of boredom, to take hold.