Unnamed Journal Volume 2 Issue 6 - Page 24

subjected herself to Jupiter's mastery, but it serves my dialectic anyway. Even gods are not always free to act as they would. Ah, but I am not dead, you say, and so you cannot verify my godhood! Of course not. Nor should you be able to. You cannot touch godliness, nor smell it. Its metaphysical quality, it's abstraction, will not submit to the narrow field of your beast senses. And to say that I am not dead is but to say that I have not died yet. Which is precisely what I can say of you, who hides from death like a flower reaching for the last long beams of sunset. But the flower will pass into darkness, and so will you. And so will I. But I will die by the action of my own will, and you will die by an accident you cannot see until it befalls you. And you will be swallowed up in death, whereas I will not remain there. This does not pass for proof, you say. Again, rightly. But consider my history, and ask yourself if it's perfect improbability does not fully prove the divinity of my rise. I was born on the Kalends of the month formerly known as September, now named in honor of my father Germanicus, in the year he was Consul. I was the youngest of three brothers, all sons to the elder son of the younger son, not of the Princeps Augustus, but of his wife. Before my father could claim Augustus' imperium, not only should my great-uncle Tiberius, but his son Drusus, and his son Tiberius Gemellus would have to pass away. And that would still have left me 3rd in line behind him. Nor is that the worst of it. Before Tiberius could be emperor, all three of Augustus' own grandsons by his daughter Julia -- Caius Caeser, Lucius Caeser, and Agrippa Postumus -- had to