scratching my soul at river's edge

as I face this winding river, staring into it's rippled glaze, every bit of her sat atop the surface...a surface wrought with a feeble, creaking, and uncertain docking, that brought my feet to a shake.....they yearned to leap, yet managed to hold fast...while she projected, her face, in front.

an image, shot forth, from a wide angle lens, with clarity and focus...it re-shot memories.....both painful and slightly forgotten, but this engaged me.....the memories caused me to draw with sudden pause.....a scratching pen....it faded, softened...and simply stopped....the memory behind it's swipe started to take hold. I now know that my vision of her has changed, and behind my eyes, I have an embedded desire to review her complete soul in it's entirety.

A lost soul walks in patterns....patterns and paths, crossed with crossroads and switched with switchbacks that transition into...redundant beginnings and endings. Their beginning seems to blend with an end....people with this capacity, can feel pain, happiness, and desire....more than the common soul....so, to understand this, is foremost....a quest to make me whole....