The Eleventh Hour

I always seek that which I cannot obtain, that which betrays me. Varda, I desired thee to be My spouse, My starry queen, but thou lovest My brother more! Arien, sensual lady of flaming passion, My sword still burns from thy torrid sheath, from the heat of thy embrace! Though thou wouldst kill Me with thy fire, gladly would I ravish thee again!

And little Luthien, sweet enchantress! Bewitched was I by the swaying undulations of thy lissome form, thy hair like raven's wings, thy skin like snow. I wished to claim thee, temptress, to turn thy light to shadow!