have a sip of tea

have a pot of tea.

imagine sipping from a warm pot of tea.

when you take that first sip,

what type of tea did you imagine drinking?

is it light?

bitter?

sweet?

was the flavor,

a delicate blend of chamomile and honey?

soothing your senses with its gentle sweetness?

'cause in a world transformed by a pandemic,

a pot of tea became a sanctuary.

its warmth embraced us,

a refuge from realities.

throughout the pandemic,

our lives transformed in unpredictable ways.

in that tranquil moment,

dreams are woven into reality.

dreams intertwined with reality,

a tapestry woven with hope and hardship.

so did you dream a dream?

'cause we did.

ever wonder how one pandemic has changed all of us.

for the better or not,

it depend.

across digital landscapes,

crossing oceans.

we found solace in newfound friendships from corners of the world we'd never have explored otherwise.

new friendships blossomed,

transcending borders,

defying oceans.

oceans were crossed,

not just in miles but in experiences shared.

we navigated this uncharted territory,

how was yours like?

ours was wild.

our shared journey wild and untamed.

some said sometimes it takes ten years to get that one year that changes your life,

ours did.

let me tell you our story for CreateTogether.

and you can decide on what you think.

be nearly impossible to offend,

in twilight's haze, black and blue,

where spirits are but more than few,

a beautiful fairytale,

clandestine meeting,

a dance with doom,

in a snowy, white dress,

dancing with the devil, within the gloom.

in a beautiful folklore,

where dreams take flight,

two spirits as study buddies met,

hidden from sight,

in the white dress's hallowed hall,

their clandestine meetings,

a whispered call.

as the devil watched his ivory dress study with a smile,

underneath the stars,

with books as their guide,

they explored worlds, side by side.

in this enchanted tale,

where knowledge blooms free,

their friendship blossomed,

a sight to see.

with each passing page,

their bond grew strong,

in quiet corners of the academy's throng.

a fable of friendship, in shadows and light,

their study sessions danced through the night.

in the hush of the study's chamber,

where secrets unfurl,

their connection deepened,

like a rare, precious pearl.

a tale of two minds, in a clandestine spree,

as university campus couple,

they found harmony.

draw a cat-wing sharp enough to drawn in shadows cast,

looks that kill, a beauty's former glory past.

"dress for none," the murmurs sigh,

as hearts hold secrets, too afraid to soar.

on the tip of the white dress's lip,

just a whistle, barely heard.

afraid to speak, to confess its mind,

when all it knew in that white dress sway,

when a dress twirls, it dances with poise,

each movement fluid, in its embrace.

fabric flowing, like waves in flight,

a symphony of motion, pure delight.

it spins and whirls, in an elegant arc,

leaving a trail, like a shooting spark.

a whirlwind of fabric, light as air,

creating magic, everywhere.

with each twirl, it tells a tale,

of beauty, mystery, and the frail.

a dance of elegance, in every twist,

a white dress's twirl, cannot be missed.

was comfort's touch, in gentle play,

but deep within, it felt a stir,

a knowing glance, a sense of blur.

for comfort's grasp, though soft and sweet,

was not enough, to feel complete,

in shadows cast, it sensed the call,

to dance with darkness, to risk the fall.

dancing with the devil, where to begin?

it was on the tip of the white dress's lip.

but when opportunity came at last,

crossing the unforgiven, shadows cast.

"don't dress for villain or for innocent,"

it was just a stab, with intent.

just like how people say the devil's heart is made of stone,

but little did they know, it melted for the snowy dress alone.

however, the ivory dress took within its own hand,

to stab the devil's stone, cold heart in demand.

some may even say the devil's heart is cold, heartless,

but little do they know, it was a stain, a mess.

a splatter that lasted for many eclipses,

dancing with the devil, with its stain and glass knives strewn.

yet it stained that pearly, ivory 白色 dress,

a mark of agony it must endure.

innocence tainted by a cruel twist,

a reminder of what was missed.

stains of spatter, like devil's heart,

yet melting, as the white dress imparts.

a dance eternal, in moonlit room,

holding a shotgun, twirling in its gloom.

in midst of this melancholy dance,

fireworks ignite, a fleeting chance.

the white dress, a vision so stark,

the darkness, a fragile spark.

twirling among the shadows, holding a gun,

does its dress have to keep on twirling, white,

holding that shotgun, in the night?

dancing around, again and again,

as time passes, seasons wane.

a ghostly figure, under the moonlight and sunlight.

memories etched like stained glass art,

in the snowy dress's delicate heart.

a dance eternal, in changing seasons,

leaves fall, snow melts, with unknown reasons.

rain soaking up the white dress's stain,

blindly hoping for love's refrain.

spring's bloom, summer's heat,

winter's chill, and autumn's sweet.

leaves fall, snow melts, flowers bloom,

yet rain soaks the white dress's gloom.

the devil's heart, once thought stone cold,

melted for the white dress, stories untold.

but the white dress, with hand so deft,

stabbed the devil's heart, leaving a cleft.

in Tunghai's embrace, memories replay,

the white dress in another's sway.

exiled again, a fallen angel's plight,

blindly hoping, for a change of heart,

a change of mind, a brand new start.

but a stain, like a broken cup, chipped,

even gold paint cannot lift it up, mended.

for it was a piece of glass, sharp and cold,

memories amazing, but some untold.

to have unforgettable memories, a curse indeed,

to relieve the past, over and over again, in times of need.

the devil tried to erase it, with all its might,

but memories are weapons, in the night.

it never touched them, never fully erased,

a fight in sleep, where the devil chased.

stained glass windows in its mind,

reflecting memories, of every kind.

through spring's bloom and winter's cold,

the white dress, a story untold.

rain-soaked memories, blind hope's call,

dancing with the devil, at Tunghai's hall.

it goes back to that day in Tunghai, again and again,

watching the white dress, in another's embrace, so vain.

with arms around it, it's no longer its homeland's shore,

but people say the devil's heart's made of stone, evermore.

yet why does it still defend the white dress, with all its might?

with bloody knuckles, it fights, day and night.

"i've seen this film before," it whistles, in disdain,

always defending the gown, despite their past.

exiled once more, from the land it knew,

defending the white dress, as if it must do.

in this exile, it finds solace, in the night,

forever defending her, in this endless fight.

a stained glass window, memories trapped,

in Tunghai's arms, the white dress wrapped.

a fallen angel, defending its flame,

against God's will, a silent blame.

that was its punishment, a sentence hard and cold,

for a lifetime, a century, as many moons had rolled.

leaves may fall, snow may melt, seasons change in flight,

heat will cool, flowers bloom, in the day's fading light.

the bubble of memories, a constant rewind,

the night, with its delicate hand, so kind.

it strung the strings on the devil's glass heart,

each note played, a silent dart.

every string it plays, as it speaks,

every piano key, the heart seeks.

slowly, very slowly, it falls into a trap,

what does the heart want?

to bridge the gap.

the devil, still with human emotion, feels,

god wants it different, with ideals.

his creation, a masterpiece sculpture so perfect,

yet flawed, like the world's obscure allure.

strings strung tight, a delicate dance,

each note a tale, of love's chance.

trapped in its melody, the devil's frown,

yearning for freedom, in Tunghai's town.

and it also tested it, but its faith believed,

that the white dress would pass, as it perceived.

little did it know, before it had the chance,

the white dress was in another's arms, in a dance.

in another dream, in another life,

slowly readying to walk the aisle with the devil, in strife.

but the devil accepted its fate, with ace,

that this white dress and it, weren't the same in embrace.

god's will was right, but it rebelled in flight,

its life, a testament to free will's might.

and as its punishment for going against God's wish,

the devil transformed, to a different dish.

now it wears the guise of a Red Castle,

a symbol of its fall, its own come down.

what does the heart seek, in its flight?

human emotion, in the darkest night.

god's will, a test of faith,

in the 白色 dress, lies the devil's wraith.

aisle bound once more, but not the same,

in another dream, in another's claim.

accepting its fate, against the divine,

the devil turns into a Granada Palace.

defending the snowy dress, against God's might.

as time passes, seasons change,

memories linger, feelings estrange.

strings of fate, a delicate weave,

trapping the devil, in love's deceive.

yearning for freedom, the devil's plight,

yet defending the 白色 dress, through dark and light.

accepting fate, against God's decree,

forever to be,

an Alhambra clowns,

honk honk, boing boing, ha-ha-ha, ho-ho-ho;

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