[Language, Lies, Magic] The Wizard can pick up slices of time from the future and move them around, splicing them in the past and the present. His charms don’t use arguments or promise direct progress, but open the doors of perception to alternative and contrapuntal Worlds that have existed for ages, granting the gift of belief to the selected few. His words, his dances, and his songs are able to control children playing in the Ice Forests, frighten the hunters in the Eastern Desert, and interfere with the sleep of the elders in the Sand Palace of Etneksha.

 

[Comedic Chronicles] Every one of the top-dogs was a newcomer: the Arch-guardian of Public Behaviour, the Most Respectful Secretary to the Council, the Director of Embassies in Foreign Lands, the Manager of National Revenue and Lord of the Sacred Seal, and the Head of the Office of the Special Representative of the Spokesperson-General for Miscellaneous Matters. They (or their families at least) had all  got a very warm welcome when they reached the shores of these cold, barren islands, as persecuted refugees without a single penny for the most part.

 

The true Wizard doesn’t try to compete with the conventional wiseacres who mock difference of every kind, and delight in seeing others disappointed as their plans fail and their productions wither. From the time of his adolescence, he hears the voices from within calling on him to find his own wisdom and pass it on, by developing the Three Gifts of the Fire-demon, namely aptitude, perseverance, and luck. He must be wary, however, of being tempted to look inside all the time, losing himself in the internal landscape. Instead, he must learn to pay particular attention to everything beyond himself, and concentrate on it, and unite with it.

 

Even Leskov had travelled spiritually whilst climbing to the top of the slippery pole in the Big, Bad City, as it were, escaping from Oxenbridge’s poisoned groves where his forebear landed on the twentieth of Saltaway-moon 1793 to establish the College of the Fallen She-angels, after fleeing from unmentionable bother in some mountainous principality teeming with wolves. And of course, by the eighteenth of Saltaway 1867, this had become the National Centre for the Promulgation of Rectitude and the Enforcement of Dogma. Isn’t it strange how the people who’ve profited most from beneficial circumstances at the expense of less fortunate individuals, often work so hard to deny the same advantage to others in their turn? I’m anything but an old gossip, but I disliked the man from the very outset. And imagine the scandal when some wag managed to read Leskov’s lips in the old Jarl’s Memorial Meeting, and saw him mouthing the words “The man was a blackguard, and his wife’s a troll, and all this is a complete waste of time” instead of singing the Illustrious Islands’ Astounding Anthem. To think that Leskov himself had penned the words (so we are told) in the old Etruscan language to give a patina of patriotic dignity to the jingoistic ditty. Well, after all, you can put a lipstick on a weasel, but it’ll always look the same, won’t it?

 

The Wizard must know himself extremely well so that he goes with the grain when performing the Great Work, and that’s hard-won knowledge indeed. Through practice and training, he will follow the desires of the imagination rather than external stimuli, being able to move beyond himself, and possess a legion of personalities, each one with different abilities and talents – whether they are women or men, young or old, scientists or artists, credulous or sceptical, sentimental or cynical, hopeful or fearful. He will thus succeed in opening the gateway leading to the right path, and then in travelling all the way to fabled Vana-zala.

 

Having seen which way the wind was blowing, the two-faced and treacherous politicos immediately went to work on getting one of their own appointed to the Silver Chamber, running with the fox and hunting with the hounds, and voting for measures, or against them, only for their own benefit. (It used to be the White Office, of course, but Leskov was not one to stint on spending other people’s money, or finance from the public purse, so they said). This they did with the help of the Wardens of all the Instructional Foundries, who were, to the last person by then, Regulated Rectors, or Faithful Friars, or Severe Sisters.

 

And there, in the land of dream and inspiration, the true Wizard will be willing to stop searching for causes and explanations, accepting the mysteries, so that logic becomes a toy in his hands, as he plays with reality, and builds castles in the air. And then, believing from the bottom of his heart that the two viewpoints in every argument are true in their own way, without judging between them, his open mind, and his impartiality regarding specific details, will create a cauldron where the magic can happen. Eventually he will find gleeful relief, mocking his worries whilst being terrified by the spectres he summons at the same time. And then he will attain mystical bliss.

 

And of course the academies, agencies, cartels, colleges, corporations, establishments, houses, outposts and institutions of the Poly-varsities and Unitechnics (the clones, competitors, humble imitators, and would-be successors of the Venerable Institutes of Higher Education), were by then only providing the latest new-fangled qualifications such as “Certificates in Practical Studies” and “Diplomas in Theoretical Considerations.” These were available in fascinating topics such as “Pragmatic Cultural Methods of Influencing the Proletariat”, “Managing and Exploiting Pandemic Diseases”, “Indubitable Knowledge regarding Scientific Faith”, and “Sight-Testing by Long-Distance Driving.“ Isn’t it interesting how many politicians will respond unwillingly but surely to the insistent call of religion in order to change lives and win votes; how many of our priests force themselves to turn to the dirty game of politics to kill sin and spread the faith; and how many of the brightest academicians sell their name to save minds and win praise, when the time is right?

 

The worldly-wise mock-Sorcerer ignores the network of invisible attitudes and forgotten experiences that make up the accidental structure of his personality. On the contrary, he becomes captivated by the theories, and systems, and principles of others. Whilst researching into them, and studying them, and comparing them, in order to weigh them up, he gets caught, and becomes addicted to them. And so, he is certain he depends on a foundation of truth that corresponds perfectly to reality, and trusts without question the unchanging words of the Old Books explaining logically and pragmatically how to use the techniques of the magical technology mechanically.

 

Here’s the circumstances pertaining then: the demise of the old Jarl, the disgrace and deposition of the National Father, a very enthusiastic vote for self-determination in the Highlands and Lowlands, and civil war in almost all the states in the Heart of the Continent. And so it was that the folk in the Green Zone on the Island of Eyrw over the sea to the west, in the Red Zone here in the beloved land of Kimbria, in the oppressive Pink Zone to the east, and in the half-independent Blue Zone on the other side of the Imperial Wall in the north, grieved for the harshness of existence for the most part, but celebrated exuberantly without any particular reason every now and then, too. Are all the disasters that exist throughout the All-World the work of the Cosmic Power? It’s the Cosmic Power that’s in everything, in the heavens, and all around us. And in us, too, in our innermost essence, but we fight so hard to ignore it for the most part. We, the bad people, deserve to suffer tribulation and strong temptations, being burned and tortured, because we bring so much misfortune upon ourselves (according to the EGO’s Religious Education Proctors anyway). Well, part of that is right at least, but the other bit's completely stupid!

 

The fake-Sorcerer swears so he will follow the instructions slavishly, and obey the laws to the letter. In this brand-new fundamentalist system, unauthorized readings are not permitted. There’s no room for creative ambiguity, for interpretation, for subtlety, for uniqueness. There’s no choice regarding black or white, true or false, good or bad, right or wrong. So, he believes he’s acting keen-sightedly, and at the beginning of each effort this will be a source of unlimited confidence, and inhuman strength.

 

But then again, what about those infrequent intervals of wonderful joy? Someone has to take responsibility, right? Well, that’s a question that people have been trying to answer for millennia now, without a snowball’s chance of success, of course, in my opinion. But it has allowed a considerable number to earn their keep as thinkers, and lingwizds, and rhetoricians, labouring to explain such things. It’s no surprise that EGO started declaring louder and louder that all sensible and wise (and loyal) persons, whether adults or children, whatever their sex or social status, should close their minds against wild imaginings like this, or indeed against independent thoughts of any kind.

 

The fake-Sorcerer doesn’t win inspiration, therefore, but gets sacrificed on the anvil of repetition. He uses the will to drive the imagination, scorning the body and working against the grain, and contrary to the flow of creative energy. And so, he tries to change the All-World to conform to his concepts, rather than letting the All-World express aspects of itself through him. He’s  always falling into old patterns, and re-using stereotypes, whilst labouring in vain to command day and night, sun and moon, stream and desert, city and family, law and song.

 

This is the fate of mortals on the Cruel Earth according to the EGO of at least. They have a deep mistrust of the impure nature of the Human Race, and a hatred of its fear, its ignorance, its laziness, and his inability to resist the pangs of existence on Vith-sathí, and to beat instinctively with the rhythm of the Great Being. We are born as orphans in the middle of the open ground of the battlefield where invisible forces are fighting. Our senses fool us; our minds mislead us; our emotions are empty and futile; and even the tears of frustration and fear dry up far too soon. Although we include a smidgeon of the Invisible Spirit, we carry evil in the nucleus of each cell. Here is the Lamentable Lineage of the Thorlin —

 

Za-vía stole the Cosmic Power to create Vana-zala, ruled by the Ví-azalim; and then, Nevlas and Salkas created Yoth-nunu as a home for Salvas and Neklas; the love-making and fighting of Thiamath and Amzu produced the rebellious Thialas; the Thialas killed Amzu, and made Mithe-rethí, the Blue World; Nilroth of the Thialas formed Heli-hrelí, the Underworld, and Vith-sathí, the Cruel Earth; Nilroth, too, fashioned Dvaldí from blood, and soil, and iron and put him in Ethna-zala, the Garden of Earthly Delight; Dvaldí split himself to create the Dvaldimil; the Dvaldimil rebelled before Nilroth gave them Hlevné made of trees, and water, and air; Hlevné also split himself to create the Hlevnilim; and Hlevné and Dvaldí brought forth their son Davuth in Ethna-sathí, the Moor of Pain and Suffering; Davuth and Elena were tempted by Xlotlringku Vlaltanlu-tnalzse, and ate the fruit of the pomegranate, and killed their whole family, sending everyone to Heli-hrelí, before leaving Ethna-zala to spawn the bestial race of the Thorlin. King Uzil brought civilization to the Thorlin; Uruza Son of Uzil transformed the Cruel Earth by killing his evil uncle, Zuthas, and becoming Uthil Zuzas, the first High Priest; from Uthil Zuzas sprang the tribe of the Nava-thalí, consisting of the Seven Castes, namely An-hazu, Az-alé, El-etho, Na-nana, Ne-hethu, Si-leva, and Ul-heru; the Nava-thalí desecrated themselves, and were carried off to Aliz-íya; Tho-vítha of the Nava-thalí alone kept the law of Uthil Zuzas, and he in his turn became the founder of Ek-lesya Vith-yahní, that is, the World-Wide Church.

 

In this way the fake-Sorcerer will succeed only in eliminating the pleasures of the senses, and conjuring up a vicious and lethal torpor, which leads to depression and melancholia amidst of a mental wasteland. He creates but roughly, calling things into being in awkward groups, so that his unreal spectres exist in some place halfway between the uncanny and the ridiculous. He expects reality to obey his commands merely because he spoke authoritatively, trying to herd shadows instead of interacting with real objects. And while he imagines he’s conjured up evil shapes and terrifying figures with his pronouncements, he’s really just blowing hot air.

 

We, the Thorlin, were created illegally. We exist in a World ruled by space and time. We are born through sexual intercourse. We have weak, fleshy bodies. We are subject to the Seven Human Failings: craving, striving, obtaining, consuming, suffering, surviving, dying. That is the reason why we are all too easily persuaded by voices internal and external to give in to temptations of all kinds. And then we act terribly, indulging frivolous whims, nurturing false hopes, and indulging in truly unseemly habits in body and in mind. We await our fate, defenceless, until we are cut down without being able to strike back. And we deserve that, as we are rotten to the core, without hope of deliverance, or salvation, or absolution, in this futile life. But, thanks to the Cosmic Power, the members of the World-Wide Church swore that they will never give up the good fight to save the World and its worthless inhabitants, even unto the dissolution of the Cruel Earth. Each weak-spirited sinner needs the help of the Church to discipline himself, lest he be consumed by evil prompted by the bald fiend called Error, which comes from its den with his featherless ankles to feast on the pitiful reprobates. This entity is immortal, and predatory, and it knows nothing of compassion. And then, at the Final Instant, when the doors open with a terrifying, violet flash, there will be a terrible thundering within. And he shall be condemned, bound with ropes of white smoke from the Malodorous Main, to go to oblivion in the Seventh Hell, after suffering from the Seven Year Itch, without being able to join the Cosmic Power ever again. We can but try to emulate the inescapable pulse of the All-World, and sing hymns in the language of light and truth, in order to be released when the last gates open, pouring out the black water of perdition. And only the EGO can teach us how to do that.

 

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[Iaith, Celwyddau, Hudoliaeth] Mae’r Dewin yn gallu codi sleisys o amser o’r dyfodol a’u symud o gwmpas, gan eu sbleisio yn y gorffennol a’r presennol. Dyw ei swynion ddim yn defnyddio dadleuon nac addo cynnydd uniongyrchol, ond yn agor drysau canfyddiad i Fydoedd amgen a gwrthbwyntiol a fodolai ‘slawer dydd, gan roi dawn cred i’r ychydig detholedig. Mae ei eiriau, ei ddawnsiau, a’i ganeuon yn gallu rheoli plant yn chwarae yn y Coedwigoedd Iâ, codi braw ar yr helwyr yn y Diffeithwch Dwyreiniol, ac ymyrryd â chwsg henuriad ym Mhalas Tywod Etneksha.

 

[Croniclau Cellweirus] Newydd-ddyfodiad oedd pob un o geiliogod pen y domen: Arch Warchodwr Ymddygiad Cyhoeddus, Parchedicaf Ysgrifennydd i’r Cyngor, Cyfarwyddwr Llysgenadaethau mewn Gwledydd Estron, Rheolwr Cyllid Cenedlaethol ac Arglwydd y Sêl Sanctaidd, a Phennaeth Swyddfa Cynrychiolydd Arbennig Llefarydd Cyffredinol dros Faterion Amrywiol. Ro’n nhw i gyd (neu’u teuluoedd o leia) wedi cael croeso cynnes iawn wrth gyrraedd glannau’r ynysoedd noethlwm, oer hyn, yn ffoaduriaid wedi’u herlid a heb yr un ddimai goch gan amla.

 

Dyw’r gwir Ddewin ddim yn ceisio cystadlu a’r doethion confensiynol sy’n gwawdio gwahaniaeth o bob math, ac yn ymhyfrydu yn gweld eraill yn cael eu siomi wrth i’w cynlluniau fethu a’u cynhyrchion wywo. O amser ei lencyndod mae’n clywed y lleisiau oddi mewn yn galw arno i gael hyd i’w ddoethineb yntau a’i basio ‘mlaen, trwy ddatblygu Tair Anrheg Cythraul Tân, sef dawn, dyfalbarhad, a lwc. Rhaid iddo ochel, fodd bynnag, rhag cael ei demtio i edrych y tu fewn drwy’r amser wrth ymgolli yn y dirwedd mewnol. Yn lle hynny, bydd e’n gorfod dysgu talu sylw arbennig i bopeth tu hwnt iddo, a chanolbwyntio arno, ac uno â fe.

 

Hyd yn oed Leskov oedd wedi teithio’n ysbrydol wrth ddringo i ben y polyn llithrig yn y Ddinas Fawr Ddrwg fel petai, gan ddianc o lwyni gwenwynig Pontychen ble glaniodd ei gyndad yr ugeinfed o Gywain-fis 1793 i sefydlu Coleg yr Angylesau Syrthiedig, ar ôl ffoi rhag helynt anghrybwylladwy mewn rhyw dywysogaeth fynyddig yn heigio o fleiddiaid. Ac wrth reswm, erbyn deunawfed Cywain 1867, yr oedd hwn wedi esblygu i fod Canolfan Genedlaethol dros Ledaenu Uniondeb a Gorfodi Dogma. On’d yw hi’n rhyfedd sut mae’r bobl sy wedi elwa hawsaf ar amgylchiadau buddiol ar draul unigolion llai ffodus, yn aml yn gweithio mor galed i wrthod yr un llesiant i eraill yn eu tro? Rwy’n bob dim ond yn hen geg, ond roedd yn gas gen i’r dyn o’r dechrau un. A dychmygwch y sgandal pan lwyddodd ryw dderyn clyfar i ddarllen gwefusau Leskov yng Nghyfarfod Coffadwriaeth yr hen Jarl, a’i gweld yn gwefuso’r geiriau, “Cnaf oedd y gŵr, ac ellylles yw ei wraig, ac mae hyn oll yn wastraff llwyr o amser” yn lle canu Anthem Ansbaradigaethus yr Ynysoedd Ysblennydd. A meddwl mai Leskov ei hun a ysgrifenasai’r geiriau (yn ôl yr hyn a ddywedir wrthym) yn yr hen iaith Etrwsgeg i roi patina o urddas gwlatgar i’r ganig jingoistaidd. Wel, wedi’r cwbl, fe allwch chi roi minlliw ar wenci ond bydd hi bob tro'n edrych yr un peth, on’ fydd hi?

 

 

Bydd yn rhaid i’r Dewin nabod ei hun yn eithriadol o dda fel mae'n mynd gyda’r graen o ran perfformio’r Gwaith Mawr, a dyna wybodaeth enillir drwy fawr ymdrech yn wir. Trwy ymarfer a hyfforddi, bydd e’n dilyn dymuniadau’r dychymyg yn hytrach nac ysgogyddion allanol, gan gael symud y tu hwnt iddo’i hun, a meddiannu ar bersonoliaethau fyrdd, ac i bob un alluoedd a thalentau gwahanol – boed nhw’n wragedd neu’n ddynion, yn hen neu’n ifanc, yn wyddonwyr neu’n artistiaid, yn hygoelus neu’n amheugar, yn deimladol neu’n sinigaidd, yn obeithiol neu’n ofnus. Bydd e’n llwyddo felly i agor y porth yn arwain at y llwybr cywir, ac wedyn i deithio’r holl ffordd i Vana-zala chwedlonol.

 

Wedi gweld sut roedd y gwynt yn chwythu, aeth y gwleidyddion dauwynebog a bradwrus ati’n syth i gael penodi un o’u tylwyth eu hunain i’r Siambr Arian, gan how da’r ci a hwi da’r cadno, a phleidleisio dros fesurau, neu yn eu herbyn, dim ond er eu lles eu hunain. (Roedd yn arfer bod y Swyddfa Wen, wrth gwrs, ond doedd Leskov ddim yn un i beidio â gwario arian pobl eraill, na chyllid o bwrs y wlad, ro’n nhw’n dweud). Gwnaethon nhw hyn gyda help Wardeniaid yr holl Ffowndrïau Hyfforddiadol, oedd, hyd y person ola erbyn hynny, yn Rheithorion Rheoledig, neu Ffeiriaid Ffyddlon, neu Chwiorydd Celyd.

 

Ac yno, yng ngwlad breuddwyd ac ysbrydoliaeth, bydd y gwir Ddewin yn fodlon rhoi gorau i chwilio am achosion ac esboniadau, wrth dderbyn y dirgeledigaethau, fel daw rhesymeg yn degan yn ei ddwylo, wrth iddo chwarae â dirwedd, ac adeiladu cestyll yn yr awyr. Ac wedyn, wrth gredu o galon fod y ddau safbwynt ym mhob dadl yn wir yn eu ffordd eu hunain, heb farnu rhyngddyn nhw, bydd ei feddwl agored, a’i amhleidgarwch o ran manylion penodol, yn creu crochan i’r hud ddigwydd ynddo. Yn y pen draw fe ddaw e o hyd i ryddhad hoenus, gan wawdio’i bryderon yr un pryd ei fod yn cael ei ddychryn gan y rhithiau mae’n eu gwysio. Ac wedyn bydd e’n cyrraedd dedwyddwch cyfriniol.

 

Ac wrth gwrs doedd yr academïau, addysgleoedd, asiantaethau, cartelau, colegau, corfforaethau, gwladfeydd, sefydliadau a thai’n perthyn i’r Poly-ysgolion a’r Prifdechnigau (y clonau, cystadleuwyr, efelychwyr gostyngedig, ac olynwyr honedig i Hybarch Sefydliadau Addysg Uwch) ond yn darparu erbyn hynny’r cymwysterau newydd sbon diweddaraf fel “Dulliau Diwylliannol Pragmatig o Ddylanwadu ar y Werin”, “Rheoli a Manteisio ar Glefydau Pandemig”, “Gwybodaeth Ddiamau ynghylch Ffydd Wyddonol”, a “Rhoi Prawf ar y Golwg trwy Yrru Gryn Bellter.” On’d yw hi’n ddiddorol cynifer o wleidyddion fydd yn ymateb yn anfodlon ond yn sicr i alwad daer crefydd er mwyn newid bywydau ac ennill pleidleisiau; cynifer o’n hoffeiriaid ni’n gorfodi’u hunain i droi at gêm fudr gwleidyddiaeth i ladd pechod a thaenu’r ffydd; a chynifer o’r academyddion mwyaf disglair yn gwerthu’u henaid i achub meddyliau ac ennill clod, pan fydd yr amser yn iawn?

 

Mae’r ffug-Swynwr bydol-ddoeth yn anwybyddu’r rhwydwaith o agweddau anweledig a phrofiadau anghofiedig sy’n ffurfio strwythur damweiniol ei bersonoliaeth. I’r gwrthwyneb, mae’n cael ei swyno gan ddamcaniaethau, a systemau, ac egwyddorion rhai eraill. Wrth ymchwilio iddyn nhw, a’u hastudio, a’u cymharu, er mwyn eu pwyso a’u mesur, fe gaiff ei ddal, a mynd yn gaeth iddyn nhw. Ac felly mae’n sicr ei fod yn dibynnu ar sylfaen o wirionedd sy’n cyfatebu’n berffaith i realiti, ac yn ymddiried yn ddigwestiwn yng ngeiriau digyfnewid yr Hen Lyfrau’n esbonio’n rhesymegol ac yn bragmatig sut i ddefnyddio technegau’r dechnoleg hudol yn beiriannol.

 

Felly’r oedd hi: tranc yr hen Jarl, gwarth a diorseddiad y Tad Cenedlaethol, pleidlais frwdfrydig iawn dros hunanbenderfyniad yn yr Ucheldir a’r Iseldir, a rhyfel cartref mewn bron pob un o’r gwladwriaethau yng Nghalon y Cyfandir. A dyna lle’r oedd gwerin yn y Parth Gwyrdd ar Ynys Eirw dros y môr i’r gorllewin, yn y Parth Coch yma yng ngwald annwyl Kimbria, yn y Parth Pinc gormesol i’r dwyrain, ac yn y Parth Glas hanner annibynnol yr ochr arall i’r Mur Ymerodrol yn y gogledd, yn galaru am arwder bodolaeth gan mwya, ond yn dathlu’n wyllt heb unrhyw reswm neilltuol bob hyn a hyn ‘fyd. Ife gwaith y Pŵer Cosmig yw’r trychinebau oll sy’n bodoli ledled yr Holl Fyd? Y Pŵer Cosmig sydd ym mhob peth, yn y nefoedd, ac o’n hamgylch. Ac ynom ni ‘fyd, yn ein hanfod mewnol, ond dyn ni’n brwydro mor galed i’w anwybyddu gan amla. Dyn ni’n haeddu, ninnau, y bobl ddrwg, ddioddef profedigaeth a themtasiynau cryf, gan gael ein llosgi a’n arteithio, am ein bod yn dod â chymaint o anffawd i ni’n hunain (yn ôl Proctoriaid Addysg Grefyddol yr EFE, be bynnag). Wel, mae’r naill ran o hynny’n gywir o leia, ond y llall yn hollol dwp!

 

Mae’r ffug-Swynwr tyngu felly bydd e’n dilyn y cyfarwyddiadau’n slafaidd, ac ufuddhau i’r cyfreithiau i’r llythyren. Yn y system ffwndamentalaidd newydd sbon danlli hon, ni chaniateir darlleniadau anawdurdodedig. Does dim lle i amwysedd creadigol, i ddehongliad, i gywreinrwydd, i unigrwydd. Does dim dewis o ran du neu wyn, gwir neu gau, da neu ddrwg, cywir neu anghywir. Felly mae’n credu’i fod yn gweithredu’n llygatgraff, ac ar ddechrau pob ymdrech bydd hyn yn ffynhonnell hyder diderfyn, a chryfder annynol.

 

Ond eto i gyd, beth am yr ysbeidiau anfynych ‘na o lawenydd bendigedig? Rhaid i rywun gymryd cyfrifoldeb, on’d oes? Wel, dyna gwestiwn mae pobl wedi bod yn trio’i ateb ers milenia bellach, heb obaith caneri o lwyddo, wrth gwrs, yn fy nhyb i. Ond mae wedi gadael i gryn nifer ennill eu tamaid fel meddyliaethwyr, ac anianyddwyr, a rhethregwyr, wrth lafurio i esbonio’r fath bethau. Does dim syndod bod yr EFE yn dechrau datgan yn uwch, uwch y dylai pob person synhwyrol a chall (a theyrngar), naill ai’n oedolyn neu’n blentyn, be bynnag oedd ei ryw neu’i statws cymdeithasol, gau’i feddwl rhag dychmygion gwylltion fel hyn, neu’n wir rhag meddyliau annibynnol o unrhyw fath.

 

Dyw’r ffug-Swynwr ddim yn ennill ysbrydoliaeth felly, ond yn cael ei aberthu ar eingion mynychder. Bydd e’n defnyddio’r ewyllys i yrru’r dychymyg, gan ddirmygu’r corff a gweithio yn erbyn y graen, ac yn groes i lif yr egni creadigol. Dyna fe’n trio newid yr Holl Fyd i gydymffurfio a’i gysyniadau, yn hytrach na gadael i’r Holl Fyd fynegi agweddau ar ei hun trwyddo yntau. Bydd e wastad yn syrthio i hen batrymau, ac ail-ddefnyddio ystrydebau, wrth lafurio’n ofer i orchymyn dydd a nos, haul a lleuad, nant ac anialdir, dinas a theulu, gyfraith a chân.

 

Dyma ffawd marwolion ar y Ddaear Greulon yn ôl yr EFE o leia. Mae ganddyn nhw ddrwgdybiaeth ddofn ynghylch natur amhur y Ddynol Ryw, a chasineb o’i hofn, ei hanwybodaeth, ei diogi, a’i hanallu i wrthsefyll gwewyr bodolaeth ar y Ddaear Greulon na churo’n reddfol â rhythm y Bod Mawr. Dyma ni’n cael ein geni wedi’n hamddifadu yng nghanol tir agored maes y gad ble mae grymoedd anweledig yn brwydro. Mae’n synhwyrau’n ein twyllo; ein meddyliau’n ein camarwain; ein hemosiynau’n wag ac yn ofer; a hyd yn oed dagrau rhwystredigaeth ac ofn yn sychu’n rhy fuan o lawer. Er ein bod yn cynnwys smotyn o’r Ysbryd Anweledig, rydym yn cario drygioni yng nghnewyllyn pob cell. Dyma Wehelyth Gresynus y Thorlin —

 

Za-vía a ddygodd y Pŵer Cosmig i greu Vana-zala, wedi’i reoli gan y Ví-azalim; ac yna, Nevlas a Salkas a greodd Yoth-nunu yn gartref i Salvas a Neklas; caru a ffraeo Thiamath ac Amzu a gynhyrchodd y Thialas gwrthryfelgar; y Thialas a laddodd Amzu, ac gwneud Mithe-rethí, y Byd Glas; Nilroth o’r Thialas a ffurfiodd Heli-hrelí, yr Isfyd, a Vith-sathí, y Ddaear Greulon; Nilroth hefyd a luniodd Dvaldí o waed, a phridd, a haearn a’i roi yn Ethna-zala, Gardd Pleserau Daearol; Dvaldí a holltodd ei hun i greu’r Dvaldimil; y Dvaldimil a wrthryfelodd cyn i Nilroth roi iddyn nhw Hlevné wedi’i gwneud o goed, a dŵr, ac awyr; Hlevné a holltodd ei hun hefyd i greu’r Hlevnilim; a Hlevné a Dvaldí a esgorodd ar eu mab Davuth yn Ethna-sathí, Rhos Poen a Dioddefaint; Davuth ac Elena a gafodd eu temtio gan Xlotlringku Vlaltanlu-tnalzse, a bwyta ffrwyth y pomgranad, a lladd eu teulu oll, gan anfon pawb i Heli-hrelí, cyn gadael Ethna-zala i epilio tras fwystfilaidd y Thorlin. Y Brenin Uzil a ddaeth â gwareiddiad i’r Thorlin; Uruza Fab Uzil a drawsffurfiodd y Ddaear Greulon trwy ladd ei ewythr drwg, Zuthas, a dod yn Uthil Zuzas, yr Archoffeiriad cyntaf; o Uthil Zuzas yr hanai llwyth y Nava-thalí, yn cynnwys y Saith Gast, sef An-hazu, Az-alé, El-etho, Na-nana, Ne-hethu, Si-leva, ac Ul-heru; y Nava-thalí a’u halogodd eu hunain, a’u cipiwyd i Aliz-íya; Tho-vítha o’r Nava-thalí yn unig a gadwai gyfraith Uthil Zuzas, a daeth ef yn ei dro yn sefydlwr ar Ek-lesya Vith-yahní, hynny yw, yr Eglwys Fyd-Eang.

 

Trwy hyn bydd y ffug-Swynwr yn llwyddo dim ond i ddileu pleserau’r synhwyrau, a chonsurio trymder milain a marwol, sy’n arwain at iselder ysbryd a’r felan ymhlith anialdir meddyliol. Mae e’n bras-greu, gan alw pethau i fod mewn grwpiau lletchwith, fel bod ei rithiau afreal yn bodoli mewn ryw le hanner ffordd rhwng yr annaearol a’r gwrthun. Mae’n disgwyl i realiti ufuddhau i’w orchymyn dim ond am iddo siarad yn awdurdodol, wrth geisio corlannu cysgodion yn lle rhyngweithio â gwrthrychau go iawn. A tra’i fod yn dychmygu iddo gonsurio siapiau drwg a ffigurau brawychus â’i ddatganiadau, dim ond malu awyr mae e.

 

 

Fe gawson ni, y Thorlin, ein creu’n anghyfreithlon. Yr ydym yn bodoli mewn Byd wedi’i reoli gan ofod ac amser. Yr ydym yn cael ein geni drwy gyfathrach rywiol. Mae inni gyrff cnawdol gweinion. Yr ydym dan reolaeth y Saith Fethiant Dynol: dyheu, ymlafnio, methu, ennill, llowcio, dioddef, goroesi, marw. Dyna’r rheswm pam byddwn ni’n cael ein perswadio’n rhy hawdd o lawer gan leisiau mewnol ac allanol i ildio i demtasiynau o bob math. Ac wedyn byddwn ni’n gweithredu’n wael, gan foddio mympwyon gwamal, mwytho gobeithion ffug, ac ymbleseru mewn arferiadau anweddus iawn o ran corff a meddwl. Dyn ni’n disgwyl ein ffawd yn ddiymgeledd cyn cael ein torri i lawr heb allu bwrw’n ôl. Ac rydym ni’n haeddu hynny, gan taw pwdr hyd at fêr ein hesgyrn ydym, heb obaith gwaredigaeth, na chadwedigaeth, na maddeuant yn y bywyd ofer hwn. Ond, diolch i’r Pŵer Cosmig, yr aelodau o’r Eglwys Fyd-Eang a dyngodd na fyddan nhw byth yn rhoi’r gorau i’r frwydr dda i achub y Byd a’i drigolion di-werth, hyd at ddiwedd olaf y Ddaear Greulon. Mae ar bob pechadur gwan ei ysbryd angen cymorth yr Eglwys i’w ddisgyblu’i hun, rhag iddo gael ei ysu gan abred wedi’i ysgogi gan yr ellyll moel o’r enw Gwall, sy’n dod o’i ffau â’i bigyrnau heb blu i wledda ar y gwrthodedigion truenus. Mae’r endid hwn yn anfeidrol, ac yn ysglyfaethus a dyw e’m yn gwbod dim byd am dosturi. Ac wedyn, ar yr Eiliad Derfynol pan egyr y drysau gyda fflachiad fiolet, arswydus, bydd trystio ofnadwy oddi mewn. Ac fe gaiff ei gondemnio, wedi’i glymu â rhaffau o fwg gwyn o’r Dyfnfor Drewllyd, i fynd i ebargofiant yn y Seithfed Uffern, ar ôl dioddef o’r Ysfa Saith Mlynedd, heb fedru ymuno â’r Pŵer Cosmig byth eto. Ni allwn ond ceisio efelychu curiad anochel yr Holl Fyd, a chanu emynau yn iaith golau a gwirionedd, er mwyn cael ein rhyddhau pan fydd y pyrth olaf yn agor gan arllwys allan ddŵr du difancoll. A dim ond yr EFE yn medru dysgu inni sut i wneud hynny.

 

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