"To the victor goes the spoils"
This everyone knows.

However, not all spoils are created equally.

Wealth--especially material--is wondrous.
Territory--especially far-off-- is tempting.
Power--especially political--is promising.
Influence--especially cultural--is intoxicating.

Not one, however, can compare
To the greatest spoil of all.

The greatest spoil of all
Is neither tangible nor immediate.

The greatest spoil of all
Is the ablity to control history.

The ability to control history
Is not to be scoffed.

It is but the victor's voice we hear
As accepted history.
The loser's voice is silenced,
Heard at most as a murmur.

The victor's voice is a trumpet,
Sounding loud and clear.
The loser's voice is a wooden flute,
Unheard except by its fellows.

The victor's song is one of rejoicing
Echoing in the cathedrals and palace-halls.
The loser's song is one of mourning
Heard in the taverns and shanty-towns.

We hear what the victor
Sees fit that we hear.
His crimes never see the light of day,
While the sins of the loser are displayed at e'ery chance.

Think for a moment,
The next time you hear a victor's speech.
And remember that he is in control
Of the greatest spoil of all.