Alexander
the Great Tells History
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DEATH
I
was caught off guard to put it mildly. I
ventured twenty-two thousand miles in twelve
years. I led men with conflicting loyalties
over the entire known world. I suffered
wounds and maladies, yet I survived while
I was abroad.
Yet shortly upon my return
home to my capital, I fell ill and died.
Is this natural? Is this normal?
On June 10th, 323 BC, roughly
one month from my thirty-third birthday,
the Gods took my life away. Some blame poisoned
wine, others complications from the flu
and others yet that I was murdered by some
of my men.
I
never thought I would die. Perhaps deep
down inside I knew that I would eventually
leave the world I knew for another one.
But I was keen on accomplishing so much,
touching so many people and leaving so much
behind that no one would forget my legacy.
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