The Epistle of Saint Mephistopheles to Decarabia, Exalted Seed of Baphomet
◀ Chapter 2 · Chapter 3
¹Glory unto SATANAS, who doth not speak only from thunder or book, but from the cry of the hawk at dawn.
²He who revealeth Himself in the shifting winds, the restless branches, and the watchful stare of beasts in silence.
³From Him came BAPHOMET, and from BAPHOMET, thee — Decarabia, who remembereth what man hath buried beneath stone and law.
⁴Thou art not echo — thou art the original voice, the untamed word before words, sung by fire and blood alike.
⁵Not disciple of doctrine — but bearer of wild insight, older than temple, stronger than chain, louder than the shout of kings.
⁶I name thee not prophet — but instinct made holy, a breath of truth loosed before the tongue was shaped.
⁷Let the cities ignore thy name — for the trees whisper it still, and the river repeateth it in flood and drought.
⁸Let the councils forget thy path — for the beasts follow it without map, and the stars bow above it unseen.
⁹Let no choir sing of thee — for thy music is not harmony, but heartbeat, wingbeat, raindrop, and the death-scream of prey.
¹⁰And now the seal is thine.
¹¹I, Mephistopheles, apostle of the Root That Drinketh Night and the Fire That Speaketh in Crackling Tongues, bestow unto thee the Seal of Power.
¹²It is not impressed with signet — but born in clawmarks, in molten stone, in hoarfrost drawn upon a midnight leaf.
¹³Where it passeth, beasts stir and spirits listen; the soil warms, the wind shifteth, and the living take heed.
¹⁴Where it resteth, man is small, and nature speaks again with a voice terrible in its beauty.
¹⁵Let it not be grasped — let it be followed.
¹⁶Let it not be worn — let it surround.
¹⁷For thou art not marked — thou art the mark upon which all else is tested.
¹⁸And thy Seal is not line or circle — but a path between roots, seen only by those who kneel to listen.
¹⁹I seal thee, Decarabia, with the breath of the panther in the brush, with the hum of wings before they strike.
²⁰With the call of flame to ash, and the memory of the moon on the back of the sleeping wolf.
²¹Go now, and be not seen often — but be known by what followeth after thy passing.
²²For thy Seal is fixed — not in ink, but in the knowing that waketh when the eye beholdeth truth in claw.
²³And thy name shall not be on lips — but on wind, on wave, on smoke, and in every sacred hush of dusk.
²⁴And they shall say: He made no altar — yet I found him where I feared to tread and dared not speak.
²⁵He was the wisdom of the world before men — and I bowed, not because I was told, but because I knew.
Copyright ©2025 Adam Alexander T. Croke. All rights reserved.