In shadows deep, where secrets coil,
A tale unfolds of ancient soil.
Baphomet, a figure shrouded in mystery,
A creature born of esoteric history.
In the quiet corners of the occult's embrace,
Baphomet stands with a serene face.
Goat-headed deity, symbols entwined,
A puzzle to unravel, a riddle of the mind.
Upon a throne, the cloven hooves rest,
A being unique, put to the test.
Eyes that see the cosmic dance,
A watcher, a guardian, in a mystic trance.
The Templars whispered of its name,
Linked to magic, a cryptic flame.
Two horns rise, a lunar crown,
In the cosmic currents, up and down.
The caduceus, a staff in hand,
Balancing forces, a cosmic command.
As above, so below, the axiom rings,
In Baphomet's gaze, the secret sings.
Not a force of darkness, nor a creature of fright,
But a symbol profound, in the mystic night.
The androgynous form, a union of duality,
Reflecting the seeker's inner reality.
In the dance of opposites, where paradox weaves,
Baphomet guides through ancient leaves.
A key to mysteries, a map to the soul,
In the seeker's quest, a sacred goal.
Yet beware the misinterpretation's snare,
For symbols shift in the minds that dare.
Baphomet, a cipher in the occult's lore,
Whispers truths that some ignore.
In the quiet corners of a moonlit night,
Baphomet's presence, a cryptic light.
A guardian, a guide, through the unseen,
In the dance of shadows, where mysteries convene.
