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Just read “Dining-Room Tea”. Although I’ve had trouble at times understanding Brooke’s fragmented structure, I feel that this poem finally broke through to me. Our lives themselves are fragmented into short bursts of understanding. It is only when we acknowledge the impermanence of life that we can appreciate the little things. We are only here momentarily…

All things eventually come to end. Why then do we even have the word “forever” in our language?