By the scintillating waterfalls of the lake Scymere, and images of the distant, cloud capped towers of his ancestral demesne reflected therein, sat Sheev Palpatine. Twenty-two standard years of age, and motionless as he lay ruminant in the yogic catalepsy once attainable by only the most venerable and enlightened sorcerer-priests of the Sith; and which only years ago seemed like the fantastic meanderings of an alien imagination. But such thoughts were far from Sheev's mind; or Sheev's mind was far from Sheev, as the gravity of his consciousness spun outward, beyond the persona through which he defined his perceptions, and unto a higher intelligence. From the manse of his aristocratic geniture in the east to the cradle of the Naboo lake country in the west, Sheev felt all the Force could feel.
Sheev felt everything. Like a sublime, musical euphony of heartbeats sending incalculable shock waves into an infinite ocean; like a quintillion beads of water on a spider's web extending in all directions, and each reflecting it all, into eternity. For a fleeting moment, Sheev lost himself in the beauty of it all; in the supremacy of the Force. He felt the devrons gliding over the sand under the lake, and he felt the animalculous bacteria in the sand kicked up onto the shells of the dwarf opees, and he felt the dwarf opees' neurons firing synapses in response to this, and he felt the molecules of which these neurons were composed, and the atoms that comprised the molecules, and the subatomic particles therein, and so on into infinity. And for all he felt, he knew at once, that all of these things, all of these perceptions, were only figments of a subtler, macrocosmic imagination; physical manifestations of the Force.
The anagogic energy that belied all existence; the quantum potential that contained all within itself. The empyrean light that fills all with the definition of itself, and the abyssal darkness that pervades all that necessitates definition. The Force, at once, all of and beyond all itself, and Sheev knows it, Sheev feels it-for in this moment, a moment that supersedes all other moments, Sheev is the Force, and the Force is Sheev.
Then, Sheev felt it all begin to slip away, or become muffled. The supraliminal elucidation began to recede, like a veil drawn over the sun, and he could feel his soul come crashing down into his body. Like lightning from heaven, Sheev was himself again. He felt the warmth of the morning sunrays creep through his flesh, and the dew clinging to the grass under his hands. He felt the gentle caress of the falling wind, and the tender cloying of his silken garment to his soft, white skin.
Sheev felt the bitter apricity of mortality. He drew his knees up to his chest, curled like a fetus against the moist earth, and wept.