devoid of distinction

she is a creature
lacking in feature,
devoid of distinction

sometimes she pines
for boldly drawn lines,
more definite rendering

at times her desire
is to perish in fire,
in total erasure





I am old now
and have not much to fear
from the anger of the gods.

I have no husband nor child, nor hardly a friend,
through whom they can hurt me.

My body, this lean carrion
that still has to be washed and fed
and have clothes hung about it daily
with so many changes,
they may kill as soon as they please.

- C.S. Lewis, Till we have Faces -