I wonder if you knew history would repeat itself and that you would live again, in multiple bodies.
We still live in tribes and we still revolt against one another. Just as it was for you, nobody really wins, even though somebody always surrenders. Everyone fights for a land that doesn’t really belong to them. There are wars, hidden and open, with tragedy being the only true winner.
We all believe in something, that’s for sure. Just like you believed that you shouldn’t be ruled. Still to this day, nobody wants to be ruled. But we are, by so many things; each other, the media, religion, oil, money and even love.
I wonder if people look to you, only to see that none of it matters. We too will be nothing but tales. But I hope that people look to you and remember that some things should never be dismissed.
The spirit of your wife, for example, lives on in volume. It’s like a lapping wave that will one day turn into a raging sea. That’s not to say we’re killing Romans, but we – the women – are rebelling against a system. Your wife’s independent spirit has passed through countless generations – it’ll live on for countless more. We need it to – we have so much further to go.
Things have moved on since your day, Prasutagus, yet in so many ways – we are just as old. Still unchanged. Still unevolved. We don’t fight with just swords anymore, although some people are still a fan of beheading. There is still rape Prasutgus, it wasn’t just your girls. In fact, it never has been just girls. Boys too. Strong men. There is still murder and destruction, ownership and oppression. We still fight over land too.
We are progressing though, I’m not lying to you Prasutagus. We have holograms, robots, phones on our wrists. We have technology for almost every need now. We don’t need your strength and your horses. Especially not the horses – we tend to sell them in burgers, no longer valiant steeds.
We’re fast-living yet time strangled. We’re going forward but never maturing. I wonder if you know that your spirit is still here, struggling in every one of us. Fighting some kind of war, being dismissed in some sort of manner, but still standing up for something and always, just always, hoping.