Erebus- Varnika Jain

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Light and dark.

One loved,

The other feared.

But it is the presence of both together

That gives rise to shadows.

Flickering, fluttering, floating, flashing,

An image in your own likeness.

Isn’t that what we are to the gods?

Mere shadows.

Mere shadows?

Deemed worthy to walk their favourite, earth.

I think shadows are underappreciated.

Those lovely forms of silhouettes.

They downplay our happiness so as to not spurn the ones less fortunate,

And hide all our sadness in their flowing depths.

They’re neutral.

They’re kind.

They’re downright divine.

The next time I feel like searching for myself

Or within myself

I’ll look towards my shadow.

Now I know why I’ve always found Erebus,

To be the most intriguing corner of hell.




Varnika Jain is prone to having verbal epiphanies in the midst of all the cacophony surrounding her life.  She is a voracious reader, vociferous eater and a vehemently passionate writer. You can read more of her writing at Moonlighting Scrivener where you can find her changing the world, one word at a time.

A Conversation, Coloured Lonely – Aurora Phoenix and Lois E. Linkens

A Conversation Colored and Lovely

it is at night,
when the silence screams the loudest.
when the curtains are drawn,
and the candle snuffed –
the air is burnt,
with the orange glow
of the blackened wick.
a single star
in an empty sky,
a tiger’s eye
in the witching forest,
a lonely car
on the midnight highway.

in the daylight
the silence is shushed 
its horns ground down
under the trampling of the day
it finds kindred spirits
lurking in the pauses
poised to pounce 
between hither and yon
a rabid Chimera
intent on foiling its captors

it is at night,
when the silence grows its wings;
when it becomes
arms and fingers
that squeeze and squash,
leaving their purple stains
across my skin.
so tomorrow,
i’ll cover up –
for what does loneliness wear,
when it wants to make a friend?

in the daylight
I dress to kill that silence
bedecked with breastplates
silvery self-reliance
protecting mawkish heartstrings
strained to breaking
by the violent plucking
of the silence in the
blue-black night
diamond crusted gauntlets
constrict my fingers
stretching toward contact 

it is at night,
when the ancient words echo;
Plato’s Symposium
rattles through my brain
like bullets fleeing from the barrel.
you are incomplete,
he whispers;
your God-given substance
will not sustain,
your severed arms
are bound to flail
in this darkness,
grappling for a mate
that never comes near.
as i topple on the edge of sleep,
the condescending voice
of old-age wisdom
bends my will across its knee.

in the daylight
learned philosophers
uncloaked 
under Ra’s harsh glare –
elderly drunkards
babbling in their cups –
beneath the penetrating rays
hypocrisy illumined.
I splashdown
in the well of loneliness
dug by my constraints
listen as they old-woman cackle
when I savor the dip.
I taste the madness
of love requited
sip from my flask
fractious firewater
eau de fierce independence
with the throatiest of howls
I birth my own
dancing star


Aurora Phoenix: I spent over 2 decades as a clinical psychologist, prior to the decimation of my world when I was suddenly incarcerated 2 and a half years ago. My writing was born in that caged existence – not a choice but a soul-saving necessity.  I write as Aurora Phoenix at Insights from “Inside”

Lois E. Linkens describes herself as a “confused english student,” though one quickly finds a polished, charming poet in her work. She has an elegant style that compliments her keen insight and whimsical sensibilities. It is a pleasure to present her work, and we ask you to take a second to look at more of her wonderful work.