It was a dangerous time to be alive
When Sidious proclaimed Order 66.
Most Jedi were gunned down. A few survive.
Most found their chance of survival as – nix –
Quickly snuffed out. A grievous waste of life.
We are the lucky ones who could escape.
Not only me – also my loving wife
Who sensed what was to come, as things took shape.
I bless the Anzati, who taught me well.
For none can find me if I do not want
Them to. Given the Republic’s death-knell
We dwelt in places where grave dangers daunt
All but the most hardy. When we both fled
T’ra Saa and I, we lived with Quinlan Vos
In his refuge. All other Jedi dead –
Those whom we knew. We mourned each other’s loss.
Galactic fringes, outer systems, these
Beckon us now. Where we will find homes new.
For no amount of dead Jedi can please
The Sith. Remaining of us are but few.
I’ll live my days out until I return
Finally to Anzat, on my pyre to burn.


One thought on “Tholme

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