Quiet resonance is not silent though it seems so;
It calls to us softly from its muted plateau.
It whispers sagely when the world is in fury;
To find it, one must wander off their known itinerary.
In quiet spaces of self and solitude,
I've understood what constitutes its magnitude.
An unseen resonance that echoes inside me,
Its hum a testament to life's sacred symphony.
You are not alone; there’s power within silence.
The stillness offers you solace, but also defiance
Feel your own rhythm - sturdy or weak.
Look inwardly! You’ll see no critique.
Know this dear friend- Silence does speak,
A language for humble , never for the sleek.
Sitting cross-legged on an unsung peak
Or lounging by windows during night bleak,
Can't you hear? The soft thrumming beneath?
Quiet resonance: our breath underneath every other beat
Cut noise at source ; Let distractions deplete
We march forward! There lies more music ahead!
Oh wait ! Or simply quell thy tread?
Be patient. Learn to hush persistent fears
Proclaim peace even amidst swirling tears.
Endure darkness before dawn has made its claim -
Your journey colors hues often divergent from fame
Recall then those who found strength in placid introspection:
Seekers embracing quietude as comfort-sewn protection.
"Poetry should be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself but with its subject." - John Keats
This piece draws inspiration from the wellspring of John Keats, a cornerstone in English poetry and an instrumental figure amid Romanticism's fervor. Born on October 31st, 1795, his light was extinguished too soon by tuberculosis at age just twenty-five.
Yet despite this short tenure he left behind vast constellations to gaze upon within our literary galaxy — a clear instance where quality triumphed over quantity significantly.
Keats materialized as the firstborn offspring into what would become Thomas & Frances Jennings Keats’s family quartet -- however early parental loss plunged young Keat's life into testing times and tumultuous tides; these experiences bleed their raw intensity through every poetic line penned.
His initial trek led him down medicine avenues but even training at London Guy Hospital could not deter or deviate attention away from sonnets begging for composition under soft candle flame inside quill-clad hands— hence birthed 'Poems By John keate’-- mildly received yet brimming with promise nonetheless .
Amid his buffet of expressions are some golden masterpieces like ‘Ode To A Nightingale’, ‘Endymion', “To Autumn” among others that seep humanity across lines carrying aromatic beauty while contemplating subtle transience fluttering along time wings .