Soldier Iella This is a love poem of sorts. It's an exploration of Jagg's inner battle between his background, with its strong awareness of duty and order, and the more chaotic situation evoked by his feelings for Jaina. If you're into poetry you'll see that it is based on a line by Wallace Stevens. (And if you've never read Stevens — you must alter that situation immediately. LOL) "Soldier, there's a war between mind and sky." --Wallace Stevens-- He finds it hard to explain how war is as natural to him as the throbbing tattoo of his heartbeat, the whisper of blood through his veins; and how it is that the microcosm he calls his ship is more familiar to him than home. Home where the mind is, where duty spiders its intricate web of gossamer threads so fine one would swear they were invisible. He thought so too once, but that was when life was simple, back when he had no reason to pull the threads apart, to pluck away their clinging, cloying tendrils, and escape. How can he find the words to explain? Now there's a battle he may not win. The measure of language is such that it always falls short, side-slipping around the issue at hand or striking at a crazy angle and spiraling away out of control. That's what he does like about home. The words stay in their place — no sudden urges to sidle away. No surprises really. But that's because he's familiar with the web, understands the singularity of its pattern. And the structure is really quite straight-forward in a circular kind of way: father, mother, sisters, brothers — he simply follows them round and round. Well, that's how it was. He's not so sure about it any more, but he can't really explain it except to say that there's a war going on in his head. But that's all right because war is as natural to him as ... ... the throbbing tattoo of his heartbeat when he sees her or when she walks near; as the whisper of his breath against her hair when he takes her in his arms. The whisper of fabric against skin as she moves triggers the sensual memory of stolen moments, moments too few and so treasured, stolen moments that steal his breath. The microcosm he calls us — Jaina and Jagg — has become as familiar to him as home. Home where the mind is, where the gaze rarely moves off track or wanders up to the sky and the stars. But here he is amongst the stars in the sky, and the view is breath- taking. And the war between mind and sky is very hard to explain ... ... but he is trying. Disclaimer: All content is made up, and no profit or lucre is expected, solicited, advocated or paid. This is all just for fun. Any comments, please e-mail the author or WOOKIEEhut directly. Flames will be ignored. Characters and situations are based on those which are the property of LucasFilms Ltd., Bantam Publishing, Random House, and their respective original owners and developers. The rest is this story's author's own fault. This story may not be posted anywhere without the author's knowledge, consent, and permission. This story is presented by Wookieehut.com.