I bow at the feet of the Masters, bright,
Who carry the torches through endless night.
Guides of realms no tongue can name,
Whose silence whispers the Sacred Flame.
I bow to the Oracles, veiled and wise,
Who read the stars with awakened eyes.
They walk the bridge from here to beyond,
Of Truth they are the living bond.
I bow to the Saints who drank the pain,
And turned it into celestial rain.
Their tears are rivers, their breath is song,
Through them the weary are carried along.
I bow to the keepers of ancient lore,
Whose hearts unlocked the Tenth Gate’s door.
They ask not worship, they seek no throne,
But light the path back to the One.
O Ascended Masters, I bow, I fall,
My forehead touches the ground of All.
For You are echoes of That which is,
And I am Yours, no more than this.
