Glimpse, so quick

Look at her go,
Her hair floats by
And I caress the air from which she lept
And I do not care if she is not there
For I already know that I won't be able to catch up
So I will relish the void in the shape of her
As if it were a shadow of a being long gone
And I almost feel that she is there as I waver
In that empty pool, but a pool nonetheless,
Of her beauteous person, no longer is but will always remain
To be a remnant of her
A portrait, but I cannot see it,
It's merely the frame with her essence in it,
For I cannot paint something on the canvas,
Because it would be blasphemy to mock such beauty.
Even the ideal cannot propose a perfection so vast,
Only God could have formed from dust such a creation
Of grace and splendor, in His divine image,
A reflection of Him, though tattered the mirror may be,
He wipes clean and purifies to shine His shining,
And that is what I see through that face,
As it floats on by before my own,
Her modesty frames the face that shines
A beauty not of hers alone,
And her body is kept as a holy reverence
So that all see Him through her face alone,
That all she does is done by Him, through Him, for Him,
And I stand amazed at such grace
And I cannot keep myself from quivering
For I keep looking as she walks on by,
Wondering if maybe, perhaps, by chance,
She turns around, her hair tossed back,
Her eyes lock with mine
What will she see when she looks at me -
A mirror reflecting me and myself,
Or the image of Him shining back through mine eyes?