Sonnet to Boredom

Mind wandering places lifeless and dry

Purpose, nebulous and end out of gaze.

It's not submission, it's not silent rage.

It's as shrill as the voiceless big cry.


As vain as the stygian starless empty sky,

As deep as the desert's midday mirage.

As clear as the map of a mis-leading maze.

As high as the wee fish of ocean fly.


Ostensibly none knows this a problem,

It's the mother of whole human ruckus.

Burned-out brain, it's inveterate victim.


Men under its spell get mended useless.

Born as an orphan, nobly hailed as "boredom".

It's embodiment of lurking sickness.
 
 
( This work of mine is published in museindia (Your space section))