That Spark Of Magic

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

When she cries

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.

Smelling The Roses.

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

Raining Thoughts

I miss moments like this. A gentle kiss fading the sounds of thunder outside our bedroom window. Such wet, tender, moisture evading parts of our body as if taste excelled expectations of imagery. Warmth fully deserved yet eagerly expressed in every embrace we turn, passionately in every corner of this occupied bed we share. Touching your soul with every focus I endure, as the rain pours down so are you all over me.

– C.A. Thomas

Sexual Repercussions

I understand the objective clearly. Learning your body till I master every curve, move, crevice of this statue I intend to worship delicately. I see no warning label, no caution sign yet I feel so enabling on the verge of exploring this embodiment without proper researching. Repercussions have left such an inquisitive glare in my thoughts. Should I taste you before succumbing myself to your every demand? Should I penetrate you with each deliverance as a means of getting through to you? Or should I turn you over and surprise that tiny hole of hope that consistently winks at me for attention? I can go on and on unwrapping my very own repercussions of you but frankly, I’m ready to do all the above with an implied incentive that only we’ll know together. *Wink*

– C.A. Thomas

Limited

Sometimes I feel limited to my own means of escaping, traveling, being the best version of myself possible. I blame myself in most cases due to self isolation, self protection from life’s mysterious mysteries. Why am I here? What is my full potential of purpose? When will life ever make clear sense to my comprehension? I ask these things quite often but more so in my own mind in fear of judgment. I know I couldn’t possibly be the only individual who thinks this, the very ideas of immeasurable certainties that could potentially be within my own reach or grasp? Maybe I’m limiting myself of all the possibilities life could ever offer, the dreams life are awaiting to unveil that could only be rewarding with hard work leaving integrity as the triple icing on top? This could be my personal inner motivation needed to excel in all of endeavor’s obstacles awaiting my presence.

Something to ponder on for a little while.

– C.A. Thomas

A Better Me

Did she walk into my life by accident or on purpose?

She asks random questions that peaks my curiosity of her intentions.

The questions become the mixture of concrete forming at the base of my unbalanced standing. As if her smile with questioning slowly prepares the molding of a man I believe she needs me to be.

The main question asked “do you attach easily?” Shifts my response to a solid “no”. Already guessing that she’s already attached.

What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve already attached myself to her. Wanting to learn this woman, understanding this woman the appropriate way. Earning this woman’s trust, respect, and love that I would vow to protect.

To achieve becoming a better me I need to surrender myself to God. Identifying the failures of a man who refuses to put away childish acts.

Recognizing that no man cannot lead if God isn’t being chased.

This I know, this I interpret clearly.

She believes in me, she convinces me that I could do anything, becoming anything more than myself.

She’s inspired me to become a better me.

– C.A. Thomas