In twilight’s hush, where whispered secrets flow, Baphomet stands, a beacon’s eerie glow. With ancient horns that pierce the silent night, He guards the gates betwixt darkness and the light.

A figure shrouded in the mystic lore, With symbols carved upon his ancient core. One hand points high, the other towards the ground, A balance struck where hidden truths are found.

His gaze, is a window to the soul’s dark quest, Inviting seekers to the sacred test. In silent watch, he keeps the endless veil, Guiding the brave through mysteries that prevail.

O Baphomet, with wisdom vast and deep, In shadows dark, your ancient secrets keep. Through rites obscure and symbols old we learn, The timeless truths for which our spirits yearn.