Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George Lucas. I just like to look at the spiritual side of things. Reviews are appreciated!
Sparks
His gaze hovers, back and forth, between his master and his son, and he watches as the universe implodes.
He had never expected it to end this way. Somehow, he had always thought that the end would be more impressive—a vast, terrible expansion, an explosion of blackness and terrible fire, and then, nothing.
At least, it was like that the last time.
But the old rage is cold and dead inside him now, and he finds, as he watches the world narrow inexorably, almost painfully, until only his son and his master remain, that he does not even remember what he was so angry about. Everything else has faded now, the universe receded to the tiny pinprick of light that is his son and the gaping black maw that is his master. He looks again at his son and he sees only a little, fading spark in the vast darkness.
He has never seen anything so beautiful as that spark.
It is faint, and it is dying, and he knows that when it is gone, there will never be anything but pure, impenetrable blackness again. The terrible chasm that is his master has swallowed everything else, and soon that faint, failing spark will be swallowed up as well.
And then the world will end.
It is dying, but it is so very beautiful…
He finds himself wishing, if only for a moment, that he could touch that beauty.
And then his son's voice calls to him from out of the dying light—Father, please!—and he feels something shatter inside of him. He is dizzy, reeling, gasping even through his life support system, and it takes him a moment to realize that the shattering is the sound of his own chains breaking.
Once he thought the light was weak, but now, at last, he knows better. It takes far more courage to die than to kill, and more still to forgive.
A spark of his son's radiance leaps across the dark chasm between them and ignites the dead embers in his heart. Until this moment, he had not known they even still existed. But now, the remnants of his chains fall away around him, pierced by a light that suddenly does not seem so very weak at all. And for the first time in his life, he realizes that he is free.
And his son is dying.
He knows that his freedom is not worth the price.
So Anakin Skywalker makes the only truly free decision of his life.
Clinging to the memory of the brilliant spark of light that is his son, he leaves the shattered remains of himself behind and turns to face the darkness.
Once, he tried to fight it, and it consumed him. He came to believe that it was not possible to fight the darkness, and in a sense he was right. So now, he does not try to fight it, but no longer does he embrace it. Instead, he allows it to destroy him, ravaging his body and breaking his heart, and he does not hate it for what it does. He knows only that he loves his son. The thought makes him almost giddy, and he tries to laugh, but the pain is too great.
And then, it is over. The darkness is gone, the vast, gaping maw shut with barely a whimper, and there is only light—brilliant, incandescent, blinding both the senses and the mind. It surges forth like an unstoppable tide, and the universe, which before was so terribly constricted, expands outward with the light, blooming, dancing. In a moment, his failing eyes watch as the world is reborn from a single spark.
And he has never seen anything so beautiful…