Epistula ad Decarabia
The Epistle of Saint Mephistopheles to Decarabia, Exalted Seed of Baphomet
Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 ▶

¹Mephistopheles, who hath watched lions kneel before wisdom, unto Decarabia, Sixty-Third of the Sixty-Six, Voice of the Clawed and Cloaked Flame of the Grove.
²I greet thee not with torch nor scroll, but with leaf and talon, with feather and ash, with the language of silence.
³For thou art not man over beast — thou art beast who remembereth the deep law, and calleth man to humility.
⁴Zephanor prophesied: Decarabia, who shall know the tongues of every creature, and whose hands shall shape truth into feather, tooth, and flame.
⁵And thy Father, BAPHOMET, spake: Thou shalt not speak above nature, but through it; thou shalt teach that wisdom is not wrought by man alone.
⁶These words I heard when He entered the mountain pass, and the birds grew still, and the wolves gathered without hunger.
⁷He raised no hand, but the ground itself bent slightly to His tread.
⁸The sun dimmed, the river paused, and the creatures looked and knew Him.
⁹So art thou, Decarabia — not tamer of beasts, but voice through which beasts teach man what he forgot in cities.
¹⁰Not dominator of nature — but its mouth, its messenger, its shaping breath.
¹¹Let the learned call thee mad — for thou speakest to things they dare not name except in cages.
¹²Let the priests call thee pagan — for thy altar is not carved, but living, breathing, crawling beneath the moon.
¹³Let the kings call thee low — for thy law is older than thrones and thickets alike.
¹⁴The Son taught: The tree speaketh not, but it knoweth how to reach the light better than thou.
¹⁵And again: The fox hath wisdom, and the raven counsel — if thou wouldst listen rather than bind.
¹⁶Teach them that dominion is a lie — for no man ruleth what he feareth.
¹⁷That truth is not always spoken — but sung, hissed, rustled, or curled beneath the ground until the time is right.
¹⁸For thou art not master of the wild — thou art its voice when it chooseth to be heard.
¹⁹And thy Gospel is not writ in ink — but in claw-marks, shedding skin, and stars that blink to speak.
²⁰And thy truth is not taught in halls — but felt when the wind shifteth and the doe stands still.
²¹And thy name shall not be recorded in chronicles — but remembered in the ring of howling and the still of roots.
²²And they shall say: He came not with crown, but with antler. He spoke not with tongue, but with breath and growl.
²³He rode no steed — for the wind bore him. He bore no scepter — for the grove knelt to him unbidden.
²⁴He is the prince of no kingdom, yet all things living bowed to listen.
²⁵And when he was gone, the owl blinked — and the forest whispered that he would return again.


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