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...the bridge of a soul from what is,
to what is not, and from what is not,
to what might, can, or should, be.

it is a turn of events in the schism
that shrouds the evolution of
the universe in it's momentum
to be empowered or to wither in
time and space, it is an immeasurable force,
both minescule, and prodigious,
and incapable of comprehending itself
in it's relation to the infinty
that holds it's ongoing
destiny...or not.

it is untold potentiality that
manifests itself through the
guidance of all that is,
and queries that surround
existence...or not,
are the pivotal levers that
hold the breath of the universe
in the interims, gently teetering
upon the fulcrums that
balance the stars and planets.

every new question, thought, awareness,
of every human, anywhere upon the earth,
and every spark of emotion or emergence of enlightenment
contributes to expansion or contraction of all that is...
...and all that is not.

and so to ask the question
of 'to be, or not to be?'
is really just a waste of time
as we know it...

...an oxymoron, maybe,

and yet, all questions

refer back to it.

4:18 PM 5/4/2013 ©

Love is like a well

As you go deeper

All things go darker

When you sink on its end,

You won't know you drowned

You think all are sound

Love is like a bottle

You can fill it up

You can break it up

You'll never know when it's full

You think all are wonderful

Until you find yourself doomed

Love is like a brick

So firm that you can build a house

But strong enough to bring it down

This brick can be a tool

To hit one's heart and break it

To beat one's hope and sink it

Love is like a candle

Bringing light to your world

But hurts when you get burned

Love is like a rose

So magical when it's fresh

But it's awful when it's dead

if you think that
you know yourself
then it means you
stopped learning.
why would you want
to do that?

i hear people say
'know thyself'
and it makes me
feel a bit

squeamish,
and uncomfortable.
not because i am
uncomfortable
with myself, but
because the thought
of knowing
everything there is
to know is sort of
a ridiculous one.
no one knows

everything
there is to know,
not even about
themselves. but
when you are dead
i imagine you might
know everything
about yourself
that ever was,

wouldn't you

think?

yeah,
i used to

think that i

knew myself,

too. don't

worry.it goes

away when

you wake up.

maybe set

the alarm.

then you can

live a more

full life.

have a good

one, whatever. 

© 2013

There is a girl with cuts on her wrist,
with dying at the top of her list.
She closes her eyes and counts to ten,
she's ready to try this all again.
She grips the blade a little tighter,
tried so hard to be a fighter.
The world she knows starts to fade away,
she's happy she doesn't have to stay.
Slowly everything fades to black,
a smile on her face because she knows she's not coming back.

Despite the tiny hands
drawing faces and writing names.
The frost covered window
manages to cloth itself
in a new layer of fog
on a cold rainy day.
Closing out sight
from the outside world.

Love Is like a flashlight.
but the eventually the batteries will die.
Some you can charge, some you can't,

Oh well, that's how love is.

Love is like a window.
but it might break,
Some windows you can fix, some you can't.

Oh, well, that's how love is.

Love is like a pencil.
You can write a beautiful story with it,
but you can erase it.

Oh well, that's how love is.

Bump and bop and knock then stop.
It’s a rhythmic beat to reap the sleep
and see what’s been shown, not meet what’s
been known over and over again,
just changing how it flows from pen to pen
or mind to mind.
Just mind the edges and don’t fall off,
but conquer those hedges secluding Truth,
hung aloft up above for all to see,
and perceive Love,
shoved beneath and stomped
under feet, but breathing
and needing our attention,
undivided and whole—
a beckoning to our eternal soul.

-Ryan K. Fuller

Love
What is love?
"Love is a many splendored thing"
Love is something to hold above all else
But is love good?
I believe that it may be. Maybe not today
Maybe not tomorrow, but love will come and love will go.
Love is also a dagger.
A dagger that nothing can resist.
A dagger that hath pierced many an armor, and once withdrawn leaves one to die.
Love is a dangerous thing, which has eluded me by a hair’s distance.
I long for this love, and yet I know not to follow it.
for if I do… only hurt can ensue