Elegy of the Fall
Woe to you, oh Sith,
interstellar flames of dominance,
the past creeps warily behind--
a darkness seeking retribution.
Plastered with the fate of many,
you held death in your hands,
but have forgotten--
Death holds you.
Through wastelands of vengeance,
and fields of dismay,
crushed beneath heel--
the victims remember.
The hope you once carried,
heads held high,
buried in raging defeat--
Fate has declared.
Structure lost, torn asunder,
a brethren without name,
watch as comrades die in vain--
powerless against final flame.
Streaking sky as Death's hail,
your names on each blazing tear,
hooded figures gaze upward--
only sorrow can they feel.
Triangular metals brought to bear,
bombard calls the final time,
only a few left to witness--
the last alive.
Barren world purged by the defiant,
a few left to gather round,
knees meet dust and decay--
cradling the dying fallen.
A brotherhood with no meaning,
is not a brotherhood at all,
scattered with the wind--
till final darkness call.