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Poem

Boredom. 
Is it ever truly felt?
Would it be that nothing at all causes it?
Could it be that boredom only comes into existence
when your mind is gone?
For even if things around you seem to bore you,
There are still things to observe 
and admire,
or to criticize 
and condemn.
And even if you close your eyes to the world around you,
You can still her the chatter of voices,
the clatter of objects.
the breath of the wind,
the breathing of you're own lungs.
And if you deaden your hearing,
You can still smell the world.
The fresh smell of flowers,
the choking smell of fuel,
the numbed scent of others.
But if you restrict your sense of smell,
You can still feel the world.
The smooth, rutted surface of wood,
the rippled burn of carpet,
the simple caress of the wind.
But if you numb your sense of touch,
You can still taste the world.
The rich tang of spices,
the foul odour of cleaners,
the comforting warmth of tea.
But if you deny your sense of taste,
you still have your mind,
your logic,
your imagination.
Only when your mind closes,
can Boredem truly take hold.

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