How do you know if you’re moving or standing still if there is no beginning or end to your state? If you are anything, you are ceaseless. Robed in scales each the size of a grown man and a spine the length of a continent, you have yet to meet a force that could halt you. Would-be foes can stand in your way if they wish; you stop for nothing.

But foes are rare. Gargantuan though you are, obstacles remove themselves from your path for another reason.

You are a sight to behold, but you don’t see much beholding. If you’re close enough to see them looking, they’re already dead. Death lives in your eyes. There is no weapon like your gaze, for it never dulls, never misses, never falters. It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did for human and beast alike to learn, the cruel irony is: you are hypnotic. One fluid, unending churn, mesmerizing your surroundings. How awful to be compelled to look when you’re doomed to die if you do. They don’t know that you couldn’t help it if you tried. You are charmed as well. A terrible monster of inimitable might caught in its own ever-flowing spiral.

There is pain, aching when the living perish in your wake. You know what you are, but you don’t understand anymore than they do.  But from all the struggle you’ve seen, so long from afar, you have pride and gratitude for your safety from such fate. There is no end for you. There is no fear for you. Mortality will never know your name. You have no need to feed, you have no need to rest. And yet…

The question comes: is that better?

But the churn draws you in. The spiral claims you again. And your attention returns to the eternal slither.

You don’t know how to stop. You don't know how to start for that matter. You know how to be, and that is all.