The world is not how it once was. Much has changed, yet change it seems has only brought us new interpretations of old robes. We no longer follow the old ways, prayers to the Gods have faded to little more than whispers. We see the world differently now. How we change seems not to matter. War is still part of our reality. Technology, in spite of being one of the greatest gifts bestowed upon mankind by herself, has given us more than Gods ever could. We have seen revolutions and prosperity, but for all our progress we have yet to cast off our tattered robes.
We are bound by undefinable garments, translucent, transparent, ephemeral. The moment we grow into our clothes they change and no longer fit. Perhaps it is not so strange then that the old songs and memories stir the blood of restless children, for that is what we all are. A millennium has passed since we changed our hearts and asked a new god for answers, but we still have not found any. What is happiness? What is your purpose? If we are to cast aside these old rags we must first embrace our nudity, our ignorance.
Fly you still, Muninn?