Whispers of the Force

A Jedi walks the twilight line,

Cloaked in stars, by fate designed.

His saber hums, a quiet song,

Of right and wrong, of weak and strong.

The Code, a creed etched in his soul,

Speaks peace, control—a sacred goal.

Yet in his chest, a storm takes flight,

Of doubt and rage, of dark and light.

He trains to calm the flame inside,

But shadows stir he cannot hide.

Each breath, a battle, silence screams,

His nights are filled with fractured dreams.

The galaxy, a fractured glass,

Each mission etched into his past.

He saves, he kills, he questions why—

Do Jedi serve, or justify?

A master’s voice still haunts his mind,

“Detach from all, and you will find

A path that’s pure, a heart serene.”

But love once bloomed in spaces between.

He fights not just with foes, but fate,

The balance thin, the hour late.

His robes are light, his thoughts are not—

He is the war he never sought.

A Jedi, yes—but not complete.

His soul still echoes in defeat.

For every peace the Order claims,

He feels the cost, and bears the flames.

And yet he walks, and yet he tries,

With haunted steps and weary eyes.

The Force, it flows through wrong and right—

He is the dark that guards the light.