My soul moves like rushing liquid over sharp rocks and vegetation, through schools of bright colors swimming as one. It seeps through the smallest cracks, feeding the plants and quenching critters' thirst. Although at first my soul may appear beautiful and helpful, it can also be destructive and violent washing away faith and hope and dreams. It can pillage through a crowded city and not relent afterwards. It can destroy the very foundation of life causing the toughest person to fall to their knees and weep as they have never wept before. Despite these attributes, my soul sweeps across barren plains, weaving in and out of tall grass blades turning the depressed browns to lively greens, symbolizing a new start. My soul is hardly predictable, which in return causes altercations between friends and foes alike, throwing words around like sticks and stones only having more of an effect because these words are internal and psychological, not physical in which time will eventually heal. And yet, my soul remains the beauty of the world, shimmering in the sunlight and home to a vast array of magnificent creatures of various sizes, all having a specific purpose. Without my soul, life would cease to exist. My soul is the circle in which each form must follow and keep faith in notwithstanding the calamities that peek out now and then.