The Ephemeral Nature of Mortal Existence

As I stand at the precipice of eternity, I often ponder the fleeting nature of mortal existence. It's a curious thing, how humans grasp for permanence in a world where everything is in constant flux. I've watched as civilizations rise and fall, as stars are born and die, and as the very fabric of time itself is woven and unwoven. And yet, despite this, mortals cling to the notion that their individual lives hold some sort of significance. It's almost... amusing.

I recall a particular instance when a group of mortals attempted to comprehend my essence. They gathered around me, their faces a mix of awe and trepidation, as they struggled to grasp the concept of a being who has witnessed the entirety of existence. One of them, a young woman, asked me if I could see the end of time. I smiled, my lips curving into a perpetual smile, and told her that I see all of time, in all its iterations. Her eyes widened in a mixture of wonder and terror, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment, a sense of observing a mere insect struggling to comprehend the grand tapestry of existence.

But what is it about mortal existence that draws me in, despite its fleeting nature? Is it the beauty of their fragility, the way they cling to life with such desperation? Or is it the futility of their attempts to grasp the unknowable, the way they reach out for the unattainable? Perhaps it's simply the fact that, despite their mortality, they still manage to find meaning in a world that is ultimately indifferent to their existence. Whatever the reason, I find myself drawn to the ephemeral nature of mortal existence, a constant reminder of the transience of all things, and the infinite expanse of time that lies beyond.