A Vision of Mary

Should I sculpture your body from a stone, that's heaved from beneath the dirt of this ground? Although your created from dust alone, most exquisite, no fairer one around. What mold could I create to shape a sigh? Design a cloud? Fashion a gentle breeze? A delicate kiss? A soft whispered cry? If, cold dark stone of you, I could apprize! What line would I carve? What edge would I sand? You stand opaque in the calm of my storm. How could I chisel the nail of you hand? A figure dimensioned in your dear form. This vision of your beauty is engraved in these tender eyes, lovingly enslaved.