I follow my feelings – without a lifeline, without a net, only with trembling skin and a burning heart.

I trust – not blindly, but with wide eyes, but my desire is not enough if the steps are boring.

I still need you, not just your beautiful dream, but to come with outstretched hands when I stumble, when I turn back.

Vitality is a bridge, not a promise in the wind. Without it, love is the flight of a falling seagull.

Oath without a ring I stepped into the open space of my heart without a lifeline, only with burning blood and the oath of the gods in my pockets.

Feelings – hungry gods, they call me by name, they put me to the test. I answer them with trust, but I also demand a pact – not just a call.

Longing is not enough when the waves wear masks. I need you as Hermes, with golden sandals, not with ghostly steps.

Involvement is the altar—not a desire in the wind. Without it, love is an Orpheus losing his Eurydice in the grave.

Come with me, not as a dream, but as Artemis in flesh and bow. Let us bind ourselves by deeds, not just by stars, for myth demands blood, not just pact.

O you, who dwell in the depths of deed, not in dream, not in desire, come without a mask, without promises, with steps that leave traces.

I have thrown my coil into the flames, I have walked on the waves with my skin exposed, I trust—but I do not ask for pity, but for presence, pact, touch.

The answer of the mythical presence

I am the one who is not easily spoken. My involvement does not come in whispers, but in gestures, in time, in blood. You have called—and here I am.