Looking For Quietude

Somewhere it resides, That is, the original Source of symmetry; The quietude that's lacking In a restless world. Alas, I cannot find it In provincial towns Of apathy and boredom: Monotony breeds. Alas, I cannot find it In the grey discord Of modern cities: replete With endless neon, Concrete and glass distractions. Our cold steel concepts Don't serve us well, rather they Continue to crush Blithe spirits and imprison Hearts and minds it seems. Yet perhaps, all is not lost. Perhaps, something stirs Deeply within green nature's Ever teeming womb. Or in the endless night skies Punctuated by Glowing, gold-tinged, distant stars. O perhaps it dwells At the pulsating heart of The sun or moves with The wild rhythms of the wind Or breathes in time with Spring's early blossoms! It must Be somewhere. Perhaps It can still be discovered Inside the ancient, Whispered melodies of trees; Or in flowered truths That are often forgotten. Perhaps, it can be Discovered in abstraction: Between colour, form Or in the scattered shadows Of Time engendered By the pure, mythic light Of eternal Forms. Perhaps, Plato perceived it. Perhaps, we can note Its presence when we are still; When we are simply Being and not just doing.