What Symphonies are Hidden

 the petals still fall in a windswept field, Whirling and dancing until they dollop the face of a moss-covered yet wind hewn stone.The drop of flower kind still callExclamation markBeauty they bleedAndIts arrivalThey announce. But, but, but what? This is the unhewn stone, These are the wine dribbles, sanguine droplets of our king's last cup. You can drink. All of creation is the sacrament. The Psalms shout His truth. Each word is spoken by Truth. The clouds breathe out his love, Though only the sharp rapture of the tulip's FLASH pleads for his glory. Oh! ecstasy of the eternal design! Take me!  My mouth will use your tones of order for melodious sonnets.  Let me sing of my love for You.  I'll let the words just slip, slowly, in ecstatic bundles, always praising your Name.