Nobody sees the beauty of being bored

The stillness of having nothing to do

It’s a simple sign to the soul

To take a breath

To count the specks of paint on the ceiling

People say watching paint dry is a bore

Watching the individual drips fall down and harden

Their lifespan so short

Similar to our own

Reminding us to slow down

Watching the clouds is an art nobody will mention

Seeing the shapes swish and swirl around the sky

The time slowly ticking past

Showing the beauty of slow change

But only if you’re bored enough to notice it