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Sage Clone Poetry: The World

I am of the world.

The world is of me.

I feel the water flowing over my shoulders. The rush of energy reaching inside, filling me as it permeates my skin. It saturates my muscles and bones, flooding my organs and lungs with its power. And yet I do not drown.

I thought the water was magical. It is and it is not. There is no chakra infused within it. If I drink it, it will quench my thirst. If I bathed in it, I would be no more powerful than any other ninja who had taken a bath. There is no magic in the water. The magic is in its nature.

Water does not seek water. Water seeks where water is not. It flows from its greatness, seeking only to fill. From highs to lows, finding the path of least resistance. It only goes where it is accepted. Only where there is a need. Likewise, does the energy flow.

When I exercise I destroy my muscles. They rip, they tear, and the strength is torn out of them with the effort. When I perform jutsu I expend my chakra. It pours out from me leaving me empty and exhausted. Yet my muscles can only grow if I break them. My chakra can only expand if I use it.

Like water, life seeks nothingness and fills it. Only an empty pot can be filled.

So I empty my body of life. Expand myself to the world outside me. Seeking to give my life, my energy, to fill the voids of energy in the world. I stretch out my existence. I find trees in the forest. Mice and rabbits in fields. The ice on the mountain. Rocks and bits of gravel. Sands of the desert. Animals and people all around me. The oceans and the sea.

I feel them all as I journey. I feel their power, their beauty, and their flaws. And as I feel them I make myself a part of them and them a part of me, all intertwined together in a web of mutuality. My body is empty, but I am full. Full of the world of which I am both a part and a whole.

Yet the void of my body calls out to me. Life seeks nothingness and fills it. I am drawn back into myself slowly: like water poured from a pot. Yet I do not return alone. The world I am entangled with returns with me. My body is full as never before. Full of life. Flowing with energy.

I marvel at the change. To think that once I thought I was alone. I thought that my existence was solitude: an emptiness that could not be filled. The thought seems silly now. For there is nothing of the world which is not part of another.

There is a tug on my consciousness. The knowledge that I am needed. Some lost child of the world, seeks to destroy it. I understand their pain. I understand their hatred, their sadness, and isolation. They believe that by ending the world they will end their suffering. They do not understand that to end the world would be to end themselves as well. I do not hold it against them, any more than I blame a rock for a landslide, or a drop of water for a tsunami. They are not wrong to strike out at the world in their ignorance. Nor is it wrong for me to strike back.

As I give my energy to my other self, the one who will wield it as needed, my mind and my life dissipates one last time. I give everything of myself away. I do so with a smile.

I am of the world.

The world is of me.

AN: Something a little different here. If you're looking for the context of the story, I don't think it's giving away too much to say this is basically the life of a clone created solely for the purpose of collecting Natural Energy for sage mode. I'm not sure if it really qualifies as poetry... but the language is less... uh... story like. My high school English teachers weep...