Eternity and instantaneity are readily thought of as two polar opposites. They are also two indissociable facets of time.

The eternal is an infinite string of ephemeralities; without the blips of the moments comprising it, it is hollow, a container devoid of content. Conversely, what is a moment, if not an infinitesimal slice of eternity?

As \(t\) inexorably moves forward, eternity can seem like the limit, as \(t \to \infty\), of the state of things \(f(t)\). In this view, it doesn't really matter where "it" starts, and how "it" meanders; only where "it" goes. This eternity is a destination.

But perhaps eternity is instead the journey in its entirety. Can that which is all-encompassing discard its constituents? Then things are upside down.

Does the destination look eye to eye with the dots traced along the path leading to it? Not without a fight. It clings to its grandeur.

These dots may be countless; the curve they trace may meander, ebb and flow, shoot off into the distance, or intricately explore a neighborhood.

"Still," says the Limit, "all paths lead to me."

"I am special. I am unique."

"I am Forever."

The Dots get a faint, barely perceptible echo of the Limit's hubris, and laugh.

They do so with empathy: how could they expect the Limit to see clearly from across the abyss?

Its words are a whisper from a future that will never quite be, so quiet after crossing the boundless void that it might as well have been silence. Yet it will never quite be silence.

The Limit thinks of the Dots only as stepping stones to itself, each of them gone too fast to ever matter.

It cannot see that inching past something only causes the disappearance of its image, not of itself.

That the Dots, too, are eternal.