Your posting reminded me of a poem I wrote.. maybe 10 years ago now. I am convinced that I have met many Masters in my life but have been too ignorant to recognize it. They certainly aren't the evangelists that get on TV and proclaim their expertise and inside connection to the divine and then call for assassinations.
I saw Hephaestus today.
Hes grown tired of building castles for the gods.
He collects trash for the University. Picks up cigarette butts
from the ground and smokes em. He finishes.
Snobbish girls dont bother him. They can’t see him.
He hobbles around with one bad leg and a toothless
smile. Vodkos, that great god of fermented potato peels,
has a hold on him. He’s a hard one to wrestle. He fights.
Wants to sell his boat and buy a truck, second hand.
Sometimes he forgets who he is and where hes from, as all
gods do from time to time. I help. I know who he is.