In realms where shadows weave their silent tale,
Beyond the mortal sight and earthly veil,
There dwell the hounds, in myths and whispers known,
Guardians of a gate to depths unshown.

With eyes like embers, burning fierce and bright,
And fur as dark as the devoid of light,
Their forms emerge from Hell’s unyielding fire,
Embodiments of dread and dire ire.

These sentinels, whose howls the brave unnerve,
Stand watch where sinuous paths of fate curve.
Their growls, a symphony of fearsome sound,
Echo through caverns deep, in darkness bound.

Each hound, a specter of the night’s own heart,
A beast not of this world, nor any part.
Their fangs are sharper than the cruelest blade,
Inferno’s breath, in their fierce lungs laid.

No soul dares pass, nor light dares to pervade
The heavy gates they watch, unswayed, unafraid.
For they are more than creatures; they are lore,
The timeless guards of Hell’s forbidding door.

In dreams of old, where ancient poets tread,
These hounds are more than life, and more than dead.
Eternal in their watch, their eyes alight,
Gazing into realms devoid of right.

So here they stand, in silence, grim and grand,
The hounds of Hell, at their eternal stand.
In their gaze, eternity’s secrets dwell,
The silent, solemn sentinels of Hell.

In every growl, a story left untold,
In every glare, a mystery unfolds.
Thus they remain, where light and hope recede,
The guardians of a realm none dare to lead.