Beyond the gates of a most violent seas and tortured earth where wicked gods lamented their pathetic deeds sung in tired minstrel through a cracked heaven, stood a grand tree twisted and ancient. Older than Jupiter’s crackling voice or Pluto’s rusted helmet, these daughters of Atlas, wrapped in gold and wood waited and protected that which was most precious to them and the world. Hungry stars danced high in the corpse of night o’er the willow trunk’s limbs with a sinister twinkle while inside this viridescent prison, these witches of the night comported in bizarre orchestration the true machinations of the world. 

Dazzling light, sunset glow, and clear-voiced they sang beneath the swaying of the tall tree whose golden fruits, fat with truth clung to its branches, while the old gods and beasts cried with all manner of desolate hope, condemning the nymph-witches beyond the gates of a most violent seas and tortured earth where grotesque deeds matured on aged brushwood, and tired, dark minstrels seeped from the roots of a grand tree in The Gardens of the West. 

[Maxwell I. Gold is a Jewish-American cosmic horror poet and editor, with an extensive body of work comprising over 300 poems since 2017. His writings have earned a place alongside many literary luminaries in the speculative fiction genre. His work has appeared in numerous literary journals, magazines, and anthologies. Maxwell’s work has been recognized with multiple nominations including the Rhysling Award, the Pushcart Prize, and the Bram Stoker Awards.  Find him and his work at www.thewellsoftheweird.com.]