To see such a beautiful creation emerging from a corner of darkness steaming itself into the light I’ve seen. Covered in essence of glorified details eyes cannot focus, words cannot express, hands cannot touch, and feet cannot walk away from…. I’ve seen this. My thoughts and reactions are to console this spark of magic. Not sharing any of this gift that produces satisfaction beyond any surprising sentiments. To kiss it, make love to it, wake up to it, and carefully listen to its observations makes life that much enticing in learning.

Do you believe in magic?

10:52am…..

– C.A. Thomas

It hurts me to see her cry. Sitting there on the bed drowning in tears, an endless river trailing to her heart as the t-shirt she’s consuming sponges the evidence of honest emotions. When she cries the inner hero within me wishes to reveal my true calling, dashing to her every fallen episode I would only hope to replace as the adventure we both could recollect in the presence of nonbelievers. When she cries I can feel her thoughts surrounding my conscious. My conscious informing me that I cannot rest until these tears of hers becomes the awakening of meaning only I could ever understand. Understanding the translation of her cries bringing forth a purpose that my presence discovers meaning of realizing I could be anywhere in the midst of “when she cries”, but to no avail I choose to catch every drop. Writing “I love you” with my finger in her puddle of our tears.

We’re the roses who walk amongst the world. The roses that survive the struggle of the soil. The strength remaining in standing as the thorns are placed in guarding our views of how others touch us, pull us, and leaves our memories on the ground for winds to blow in directions others are willing to capture. We’re roses yet our seekers have yet to smell our innocence, feeling our integrity, asking the very questions circling around love as if doubt supersedes the inevitable. We think it’s never too late to smell the roses which in doubt the very smell easily fades quicker than an untimed introduction. Appreciating the gift while it’s in our grasp makes the smelling of something much richer than our desire could ever process gives such a powerful meaning to “smelling the roses”.

We are the roses.

– C.A. Thomas

We walk past a mirror frequently for either timely routines or self reflection. We rarely identify the love that lies beneath the very skin we claim to own. It takes projecting of other’s opinions to alter our very own perception of how we should love ourselves. A mirror is more than a projector, more than a view of what’s in front of us. It’s simply the reminder of how love is designed through every spectacle that we describe the moment another’s love enters our radar. What is the love mirror? Gazing through another’s soul with those identical thoughts neither person would hesitate in saying. Let’s become each other’s “Love Mirror”

– C.A. Thomas