Ebony dark ablaze with scattering of gems - starry treasures in scarlet and emerald and azure - the galaxy flared in a riotous cacophony of color across the never-ending sky. It was still night on Tatooine, the breezes of chill wind blowing gently across the Wastes but even now the faintest line of new day was greying the fiery colors. He waited in silence, enjoying the lift of darkest night into the approaching dawn. Watched in stillness as the blush of light transform all to aquamarine and pearl and opal. Gazed in quiet repose as the incandescent suns leapt into the sky and burned away all color in a brilliant, burnishing translucent blue. It was the last day he would ever spend on this dusty world.
The crazy old wizard looked out over the Jundland Wastes. He had spent the night watching, waiting - patient as only a Jedi could be - knowing that the inevitable future was rushing to meet him with all the subtlety of an exploding planetoid. Even now, it came blazing across his face - incandescent fire and savage fury as if the suns' scorching light carried all the tomorrows into this one day.
He was old, no callow youth with sunlit hair and a form that begged for deep sighs and lingering looks. There had been no sighings in decades. A weathered face framed in white, the skin leathery with age and the punishing radiation of Tatooine's twin suns, he was ancient. An antique in an age when old things were tossed aside or ground into dust. Grizzled and worn-out, only his jade green eyes still held the shimmer of youth.
Getting up, his worn body protesting the action with the inevitable aches and stiffness of old age, he stretched slightly, acknowledging the pain and moving beyond it. Arms lifting as if soaring on the current, he flowed into the beginning form of Wind's Caress Kata. The simplest of movement - the first he had ever learned as a youngling - soothed his weary and worried spirit and he hungered to do more, to feel more. The remembered sparkle of long-ago youth glittered anew, fresh and clear. Flowing into the kata, ignoring the strain of ancient muscle and bone, the hesitation of grounded flesh, he dipped and wheeled. Riding, ascending the currents of wind and Force and beauty in this harsh world, nothing seems to touch him - not sorrow, not anger, not despair - nothing but the joy of the dance. Rapture to last an eternity.
But nothing lasts forever, not even memory. The kata drew to a unwelcomed close. The ethereal mutated back into the banal and at last he stood, breathing deeply, overlooking the Wastes that had so dominated his existence.
The suns were higher now. Just past dawn and all ready the future sped swiftly toward him. It was time to go, time to meet the almost-now in a young, sandy-haired boy, the new hope in a galaxy without hope. Time to meet his destiny.