From Michel Rio's "Merlin, Morgane, Arthur"
‘Morgane is chaos,’ Arthur told me. ‘Chaos in which all meaning vanishes, in which a painstaking and zealous builder, who has always and persistently striven towards his goal, drowns.
Morgane is an attack of the senses, which kills one's obsession with a dream. It is the absolute present, which destroys the fragile future. Her mind is the desolation and destruction of all that lives, and I hate it – yet worship every particle of her body, its slightest movement of an endless dance of enchantment and death.
And yet I cannot help but realise that her body is merely the most delicate and marvellous shell of her mind, that both form a single, indivisible whole; and that the alluring nature of her outer form, with which nothing in nature can compare, is merely a perfect reflection of a thousand times powerful temptation hiding within the cunning splendour of a brilliant and twisted mind.
And whilst, exhausted, I drink from the fountain of this joy and suffering of mine, whilst I gain power over her sweet and sensual body, I feel that she gains the same power over my soul.
That is why my hatred is nothing more than love filled with terror.
And so now I, Arthur of Logres, sovereign of the Round Table, who bravely set out to teach chaos a lesson in war – a chaos in which I saw nothing but monstrous cruelty and all-consuming hatred, have received from chaos a sermon on love in return.
And this is a different war, in which I feel helpless and defenceless. Words of love lose their familiar meaning; the mystical revelation suddenly takes on flesh and blood, the abyss of pleasure merges with the abyss of nothingness.
Morgane is a gentle river that carries me away, a drowning yet happy swimmer, into nowhere, into the silent expanse of the ocean waves.
I love Morgane as one loves a woman and as one can only love God. Who can break the chains of the unbreakable union of a light body and a dark soul?
Morgane herself, for as long as I have known her.
