When the story told seems to have happened all too long ago, we forget. We forget how we fit into that story and how we are somehow heirs – continuations – of that story which has now been relegated to the realm of legend. One day, the legend will become myth. And soon enough after that, it will be heard of no more.

As with all things that decay, so does our memory and our sense of being. If it is untrue that these things decay, it is at least true that they constantly threaten to decay. Our memories of these stories told long ago are what give us strength for today and hope for tomorrow. When we forget, these memories diminish together with strength and hope, hence the onslaught of despair and the reign of terror and fear.

The truth is, we were once Kings and Queens of the Land. But over time, we forgot how to be the Kings and Queens we were designated to be. And over time, we even forgot that we were in fact Kings and Queens. And because we had forgotten, we acted like savages who roamed the land, seeking to exploit all we could dominate and demean.

We even forget how to treat our fellow Kings and Queens, allowing our fallen bestial natures to engage in strife and rivalry over matter that once could have been shared by us all. The cry for power and dominance corrupts our land, which was once Our Land. And the land is infested by a race called “we”, who were once called “We”.

The Lion must return. For when he returns, we will remember. And when we remember, We will once again rule Our Land. He must return, and he must roar, so that we will remember.