Cup of tea
When the cup is empty
A myriad spectrum of feelings
Gets poured into it,
You taste them all
And feel all of each,
The boldness of it,
The subtleties,
Its sweetness,
And bitter tinge too,
All infused in a cup;
Not that it felt unfamiliar,
They were the same old flavours,
Natives who had known me well,
The ones which I keep choosing,
Come home and return to,
Steep alongside it,
Deeper, richer,
Much louder,
More intense,
On another level,
Altogether
Whole;
Not that it was absent,
But went unnoticed,
Obscured,
Here;
But now you do,
It finally gets heard,
And you finally listened,
Realized it gets swallowed,
Gulped down the throat,
Into the esophagus,
To stomach it all the time;
Drank without knowing,
Of its taste,
never wondered,
neither notice,
nor felt,
It’s textured body,
The smoothness,
and course of it,
Nor got to know,
The contents of,
Inside the cup,
Yet we drank,
Swallowed it all;
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