Chanting times four…
Seeds of life, oh how they grow,
Flying away, at that oh so precious moment.
Leaving home, leaving family to grieve…
Oh that so precious moment,
Oh so precious…
Children running, children climbing,
Children dancing in the air…
Wind blowing the clouds in the sky,
Children running in the fields with their arms spread wide,
Their imagination running free, knowing no limitations,
No boundaries to stop them…
Weeping in the air, cries of the dying,
Moans of the wounded, shouts of the fighters,
The commands of battle… Screams of weapons,
The whistling of blades, the spluttering of the guns,
The electronic whine… The ravages of battle crying out,
Its pain felt and lost.
The rasp of pain, the gasp of sorrow,
The denial of death, the scream of fear,
That collapsing crush of guilt…
The echo of life, the rattle of death,
The fading of life…
And as I sit here, on the rock, overlooking the battlefield,
Still covered in gore and blood from the fight,
I sit there with my right arm raised on my right knee,
My other leg stretched out before me.
My lightsaber dangles from my right hand,
The second rests against my hip and left hand.
The battle is done, we have won; many of us have died.
Others wounded and scarred for life…
And all I can do is clip my lightsabers to my belt,
And go… leaving the battlefield.
Go back to face the Council, once again.
Why I am doing this… I don't know why,
Nor do I understand – I just am, for this…
This is my destiny, what is yours?