A Jedi has no fears. A Jedi has no regrets. He lives in the here and now.

A Jedi does not love. The care he feels for his master is strictly professional. And the obligation he has to fulfill for his padawan is emotionally-detached.

There is only the force. The light side. The task he has to do.

There is no power. Not for a Jedi.

A Jedi is selfless and kind. He cares not for himself, but for others. He helps without being aided himself.

A Jedi does not ask himself "Why?" He does not think of the reasons his padawan has joined the dark side for. He does not wonder what he might have done wrong, where he could have done better.

A Jedi does not dream of his padawan bursting into flames. Of hearing his screams. His words "I hate you" and let them get to him. A Jedi does not feel. He is calm and controlled, reserved.

There is no "I" for a Jedi. Only a "we" or an "us". Only the Order that counts! Which Order?

"I" had always thought myself a good Jedi, in touch with the force, with the will and wish to do good. Still obedient, not as hot-headed or emotional as my master was.

But I failed. Oh master, I am so sorry, I promised you to train the boy, I swore it on your deathbed, and I failed. You and him. And in the process the whole Order. Myself.

I am weak. And I felt it burn as I stood there and watched him trying to crawl up the stones. Motionless, a spectator, not concerned. I felt his eyes burning into mine. Hating me.

"You were the chosen one! You were supposed to bring balance to the force. Not to join the dark side." A Jedi does not cry. He does not feel. He does not hurt.

But I do. And I wake up in the night, panting, sweat on my forehead, gripping my lightsaber, paranoid. In my dreams he burns all the while laughing at my tears.

On Tatooine, in exile, nothing can distract me. The sand, the sun, the heat, the loneliness. No Order. Master Yoda in hiding. The knowledge that I have failed. That it is my fault.

Too many former Jedi that have chosen the Dark Side. Every good master can fail a padawan. Yoda failed Count Dooku. Qui Gon failed Xanatos. Obi Wan failed Anakin.

But why does my failure have to result in the destruction of our world? In the dark Empire of my former padawan and his new master. Why?

I should have known. The evil glint in his eyes, the one he would get when defying me. His stubbornness. His cocky and arrogant attitude, not fit for a Jedi. And his longing for more power. His need to get higher, to rule. His feelings for Padme.

A Jedi is content. He never wishes anything for himself. That would be greed.

"You were my brother! I loved you!"

But I do wish I had somehow done it better, noticed sooner, cared more, watched him closer, changed his ways.

Anything would I give to change the past. The future remains unknown. How could there be any future? Should this little boy, this small infant, Luke, should he be the one in the prophecy? Who can bring balance to the force?

No, a Jedi does not hope. He does not wish.

"Save me, Obi Wan. Forgive me!" my former padawan pleads in my dreams. I never do. I always turn, my heart breaks and I leave. And I am scared, a coward, a traitor on my soul.

Never should a Jedi ask himself the "what if" question!

A Jedi does not regret!