The eternal drama of finitude. The eternal drama of man contingent. Much has been the history of philosophy of man pretending to infinity! We pinned Parmenides, Aristotle gave us motion and finite knowledge of the infinite, Hegel made us one and then to amalgamate the Sartrean paradox, we are immersed in the impermanence of this existential anguish. But should it not be that moment of exaltation? Do not we live as a fugacity that extend to the possibility of the impossibility of all possibilities? Do not store in the depths of the soul noble the very moment? Is not that fleeting instant contact with the infinity? You philosophers who think the world, that change the world, living the world, do not play to find the treasure Greek Kairos ? His philosophy, his thinking, his life is defined in the transience of life. Enough gloomy prospects tildan our being-in-the-world as a hopeless task. The futility is resolved in the transience, the whisper before falling into the water, the moment before the laughter, the beat, the closer our lips to the woman we love, original silence, the first moment of awakening metaphysical, there in the low wooden pulpit the humid sun of November, the musical inspiration and the star dancer, sleep, waking up the last rays of sunshine, the first light of a cold winter morning, the End of the Novel, breathe, sigh, laugh. It would, perhaps, to think about how fleeting, that is where lies the paradox of the eternal.
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