Let me begin by warning you that this blog is about Star Wars. The first movie that my mother ever took me to was Episode IV which left quite the impression on me. When Empire Strikes Back came out in 1980, I talked my Grandpa into letting me go and watch it by myself. Same thing with Return of the Jedi in 1983. I was hooked on this saga from day one.

Now, despite the painfulness that parts of The Phantom Menace is, the basic story of the prequels still have me hooked. I’ve found that the novels of the movies quite often are better than the final product. Which brings me to Revenge of the Sith.

The novel of Sith is ten thousand times better than the movie. The work that author Matthew Stover does in conveying the power of the story and the struggles of the characters is amazing. His use of the second person narrative to describe the internal thoughts of Obi-Wan Kenobi and of Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader come across very powerfully. If you haven’t read it or brought it into your literary collection, I highly recommend that you do.

However, there’s four passages of the book that convey a good lesson about the power of love which I’d like to share with you:

The Dark is generous.

Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the Dark beneath our skins, out true hearts remain shadowed deeper still. But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truths of others.

The Dark protects us from what we dare not know.

Its second gift is comforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreams in night’s embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel in day’s harsh light. But the greatest of its comforts is the illusion that the Dark is temporary: that every night brings a new day. Because it is day that is temporary.

Day is the illusion.

Its third gift is the light itself: as day are defined by the nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black through which they wheel, the Dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.

With each victory of the light, it is the Dark that wins.

The Dark is generous, and it is patient.

It is the Dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drops contempt into compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt.

The Dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain will cause those seed to sprout.

The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the Dark is the will in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits behind the star that gives them light.

The Dark’s patience is infinite.

Eventually, even stars burn out.

The Dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.

It always wins because it is everywhere.

It is in the wood that burns in your hearth, and in the kettle on the fire; it is under your chair and under your table and under the sheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun and the Dark is with you, attached to the soles of your feet.

The brightest light casts the darkest shadow.

The Dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

Love is more than a candle.

Love can ignite the stars.

Are you that love? Can you be that love? Can any of us be that person who holds back the Darkness in our lives. I wonder?