As Luke carries him to his ship, Vader wheezes
& rasps, close to his end. Luke, he implores,
help me take this mask off. Luke freezes.
But you’ll die. Vader gasps. Just for
once let me look on you with my own
eyes. Luke lifts off the mask. Inside is the ruined
face of a man, pale & scarred from a duel on
Mustafar.* Now go my son, Anakin
says without his signature inhalations,
leave me. But Luke carries his father
to his ship & flies to Endor. There, the good son
lights a pyre, & flames whip & lash at the mask. Others
party, but Luke stands alone, flashing a quick grin
at the ghosts of Yoda, Obi-Wan, & Anakin.**
* This is what happens when a stud like Obi-Wan tells you not to try it and you try it.
** The trilogy, alas, is over. Now all you have to look forward to in the next 32 years is Jar Jar Binks. Yousa screwed. Meesa screwed. We allsa screwed.