Himininn brennur
Eldur og brennisteinn æðir yfir allt
Hjörtun steinrunnin, úti orðið kalt

Dimmir á jörðu
Gráskýja strókurinn stendur yfir mér
Kolsvartur djöfullinn kæfir allt sem er

Brjótum geisli ljósa, hljóðmætir

nú logn, Hrafntinni
nú logn, Hrafntinni

- Sígur Rós: Hrafntinna

Dream, Chosen One.
Dream of the Force, connecting all things, making even the metal alive. When you talk to the metal, it takes shape. When you love the metal, it resounds like a bell. Look at your hands: full of sense for the tools. Hands of a smith, hands of fire. Into the smelter of your hands the metal goes, out comes creation. For the Force is in your hands. The Force is with you, always. All of you, always. In the Force, you unfold, you create. Listen!
We are Jedi, we create. That is our place. Why don't you see that?

Dream, Chosen One.
Dream of the sands of your childhood. The Force is in every grain of sand; it flows over the world in storms, shaping and sandblasting it. In the night of Tatooine, it shimmers like heat from the dunes, but in truth it is still the Force. And there is water here for those who know how to get it. Water, like hidden love. Without the sun and the sand, there would be no Tatooine.
Here, you were shaped and sandblasted. Here, they beat the You out of you. You learnt to fear their hands.
The Force filled the space. So brittle, so small on the surface you float. The Force is your home. It is the only thing you never feared. Around you, they are deaf and blind. You were alone. You are alone. That is the price. The price, and the gift. The Force is with you.

Dream, Chosen One.
Dream of being a sun. Dream of a green planet, with water in its core. On the surface of the water, green floating lilies. An olive-skinned face, shining with wetness. Out of the water she comes and when the fingers of the sun hits the surface of the water, steam arises.
The springs are many here. The depths are immense. This is the Force as you never knew it. Listen!

Dream, Chosen One.
Dream of the depth of the waters of Naboo. Here it takes shape of immense beasts. Not often do they break the surface, but they are there nonetheless. The depth is not apparent either, but it is here nonetheless. You can drown or get crushed by the weight of waters like these.
Can you even swim? Are you not afraid?
No. The Force is in the water, in this unknown element, the thing so lacking, so secret when you were a child. And the Force is the only thing you always knew. And the beasts in the depths have olive skin.
Wise you are, child. Wise and foolish. Fill your pockets with stones and jump.
…

Dream, Chosen One.
Dream of the olive skin of the mermaid and drink, drink, drink.
Here, here is the place where the Cosmic Force and the Life Force meet. Here, in the darkness, is Creation. Here, in the darkness, are only the monsters you bring with you.
Listen! Drink. Teach them.
How, you ask? But you will. One way or the other.

…
We are the Chosen Ones. But my wife will die. She will choke on creation unrecognized. I am choking on waters kept too secret. The Force is with us, but no one knows the Force anymore.

I am the Chosen One. My hands long for the tools, to talk to the metal by the smithy. My hands long for mermaids. They give me a saber instead and say, create with this.
So I create. I build coffins. Coffins. Coffins.
I am the Chosen One.
Who calms me and strokes my sides?

I am the Chosen One. The Sun lives in my hands. They reach for her but she chars, breaks like twigs. What was it I was trying to reach? The Force is with me. I am a speck of sand floating on lava.
Where was the water? Will I die of thirst now? How will I create water out of fire? Force does not speak to me anymore. It wields me.
It always wielded me.
You did not have a right to wield her as well. You did not have the right. I will never forgive you. Never!

Dream, Chosen One.
But I am No One. There is fire in my lungs. Every breath hurts.
This is the will of the Force. In the darkness is creation.
No. Not without her. I will never forgive it.
That, too, is the will of the Force.

I build coffins. It is the will of the Force. That is why I do it. That is why I hate it.

Dream, Chosen One.
Are there cacti, here in the desert?
A boy and a girl. They are of no consequence. The dry, rainless thunderstorms will char them.

Dream, Chosen One.
There is a thunderstorm approaching. The clouds are grey as lead. The ozone of lightning fills the air. Lightning strike the cactus.

Water, water in the desert.
Down, down from the skies it pours. Up, up through the underground it wells.
The speck of sand floats on it. Brittle, like a salt crystal, it dissolves, becomes one with the water. Becomes a tear of forgiveness.
Here, green grass will sprout.