 The Truth in Sequence: Volume 7 |
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| ID | 4567 | ||
| See Also | Lore version | ||
| Up | The Truth in Sequence | ||
| Prev. | Volume 6 | Next | Volume 8 |
| Collection | Clockwork Mnemonix | ||
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Taken from the sermons of Deldrise Morvayn, Fourth Tourbillon to the Mainspring Ever-Wound.
By the word, I wind the gears.
Think now on the wheel. To all things it appertains.
Is there anything so sacred as the wheel? Like Tamriel Final, the wheel both moves and does not move. Anuvanna'si. The axle sleeps, while the spokes make haste—round and round in reflective circles. Now, here dwells a Nameless secret, child of the Tribunal: does a thing move when it moves in circles?
Motion lies at the heart of the Nirn Ensuing, but not all motion is Nameless. Not all movement earns His blessing.
The Divine Metronome calls the first motion "The Motion of Lines." Line-motion is the motion of simple minds—the motion of weak wills and scholars' vanity. "Forward!" it cries! Forward to the fruits of cheap ambition. Forward to the promise of everlasting kingdoms. Forward to the mirage that the sages call "progress." These misguided pioneers venture out into their wild tomorrows, and the tomorrows after that, certain of their worth—their virtue. But what profits a man or mer to gaze deep into a single future? The aims of mortals are narrow, far too narrow! To move forward is to ignore infinite angles in favor of one. It is the act of a beast or a child. The Clockwork God spurns vanity in the guise of courage. These explorers' travels only lead them farther from Tamriel Final. Anuvanna'si.
Seht speaks of the second motion only in whispers. "The Pendulum" or "Named Oscillation" is the tic-tock motion—the motion of entropy and false hope. None but the Clockwork God may claim its dark power. With each wide swing it shouts Lorkhan's lie. "Hail, intentions divided! Hail, cursed multitudes!" Do not stand in the Pendulum's path, ash-child. Only the Mainspring Ever-Wound may bear its weight.
Last is the reciprocating motion. "The Sublime Piston." The lover's embrace. Like the Father of Mystery, it gives and takes in equal measure. As the bow upon the strings, it calls forth the sublime. As the carpenter's saw, it wrenches back and forth, sundering the Named pursuits of lesser mer. Only a Nameless heart may harness its strength. The artist, the star-counter, and the engineer call it "muse." The truth-blind multitudes call it "destroyer."
Do you see now, child of the Tribunal? Every movement hides intent. To stray from the wheel is to abandon the Clockwork God. In the Tamriel Final, all shall spin, and only spin. Anuvanna'si.
By the word, I wind the gears.