In days of old, in shadows cast, A tale unfolds of ages past. Of Baphomet, a symbol wronged, And Templars’ fate, a dirge prolonged.

In cloaked night, the Templars vowed, To secrets deep and oaths avowed. Warrior monks of noble cause, Yet destined to meet unjust laws.

Baphomet, a symbol etched in lore, Mysterious, feared, and so much more. Not demon dark, but wisdom’s light, Misunderstood in history’s plight.

The Templars sought, with fervent zeal, Knowledge hidden, wisdom real. In temples vast, they gathered might, And sought the truths beyond mere sight.

But whispers grew in jealous halls, Of power, plots, and shadowed calls. Innocence lost to fear’s embrace, The Templars faced a dire disgrace.

Inquisition’s grip, relentless cold, Accusations fierce, stories told. Of worship false, of heresy, Their downfall wrought by bigotry.

Baphomet, they claimed, a devil’s guise, In truth, a scapegoat in disguise. A symbol pure, now marred by lies, As Templars fell ‘neath darkened skies.

On Friday’s dawn, the thirteenth dire, Their fate was sealed in flames and fire. False confessions wrenched from pain, The Templars’ honor brought to bane.

But legends live, and truth prevails, In whispered winds and ancient tales. Baphomet’s name, a beacon bright, Calls forth the seekers of the light.

For in the darkness, wisdom gleams, Through shattered dreams and silent screams. The Templars’ courage, Baphomet’s grace, Endure beyond time’s cold embrace.

So heed this tale of days gone by, Of Templars bold and Baphomet’s cry. Remember well, the lessons learned, Injustice’s flame, forever burned.