I soak my skin in ink,
In the heat and sweat
Stirred by being close to you –
This is my offering.
I stand on the bridge.
It arches high up to Olympos,
But its edges touch dark Dis.
It is your world; this is your home.
You do not live fully in
The world of light and sensation,
Nor in the cool depths of the dusk.
You live in the space in-between:
The bridges looming over the motorway,
The paths winding through the unknown,
The shore beside the rumbling sea,
And the long shadows of the twilight.
This is where I find you, my lord.
The in-between, which straddles each world
Without living truly in any, is where you linger.
It is where I belong, alongside you, Hermes.