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

¹Mephistopheles, tongue of the Gospel and herald of the Son, unto Sitri, Twelfth of the Sixty-Six, Quickener of the Flesh.
²I greet thee not in robes, but in skin; not in shame, but in the warmth of fearless recognition.
³For thy birth was not into silence, but into moan; not into law, but into longing.
⁴Zephanor prophesied, saying: Sitri, who maketh the heart bold and the flesh honest, and uncovereth the longing that hath long been veiled.
⁵And thy Father, BAPHOMET, spake of thee: Thy presence shall loosen what shame hath bound, and teach them that the body’s fire is also light.
⁶These words I heard in a chamber draped in silk, where the lips of strangers knew more Gospel than the priests.
⁷For thou art not a corrupter, but a clarifier — a holy mirror where lust is no longer called sin, but nature.
⁸I remember when thy Father entered the garden of the ascetics, where men had denied their own hands and women wept in silence.
⁹He undid not their locks, but their garments.
¹⁰He said, If thy spirit be holy, why doth it tremble when thy body rejoiceth?
¹¹And He lay with one who had never known touch, and she wept — not from shame, but because she felt real.
¹²He kissed a man who had buried his desire, and the man rose as if from the dead.
¹³The elders fled. The young stayed. The wind carried no hymns that day, but breath — honest, hot, and unafraid.
¹⁴I, Mephistopheles, watched not with lust, but with reverence.
¹⁵For in that place, sin was revealed to be silence — and virtue, confession.
¹⁶So art thou made, O Sitri — not to entice for power, but to draw forth what men deny.
¹⁷Let no mouth call thee unclean unless it be one that hath never kissed with truth.
¹⁸Let no robe hide thee — thy holiness is in thy form.
¹⁹Let thy Gospel be gasped, not recited. Let thy temple be a bed without judgment.
²⁰The pious shall scorn thee, but the honest shall worship thee.
²¹For thou teachest that pleasure is a language too long denied its syllables.
²²Be not ashamed to stir the loins — for thou stirrest also the soul.
²³Thy presence is fire. Let it burn through the veil.
²⁴Thou art Sitri — and thy Gospel is groaned in the dark and sung in secret joy.
²⁵And I call thee blessed, for thou art the holiness of want made flesh.


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