a serpent swallows its own tail, not out of hunger but because of an ancient compulsion to know itself. it forms a perfect circle, and occupies a space where neither life nor death are present. its scales glimmer under the light of a beginning that never ends. in its eyes are both the forbidden fruit and the final descent into entropy. the serpent was witness to humanity’s genesis and its follies, and it will be there when it all ceases in cold silence. within this ouroboros, time collapses, and each wound is sealed as it is made.
i sit in the middle of its circular form. like the shapes in nature we name but never understand, i cannot fathom it. it spirals slowly, indulging in the process of becoming and unbecoming. its stomach will never hunger, nor will it ever be full, yet it salivates, as though anticipation itself is sustenance. it is shadow made flesh, an assimilation of absence. the serpent whispers in tongues older than silence. it utilizes words that knot and unknot themselves, leaving only the taste of iron and eternity. i think it is telling me that to create is to destroy, to live is to die, and i am both the feeder and the fed.
does the serpent achieve immortality? will it slay itself to bring itself to life? to reincarnate in the same form yet with the knowledge of infinity. will it be born anew? a being born from the clash of opposites: head to tail, holy to sinful, everything to nothing. in this eternal cycle of self-consumption, it has eaten itself and i am witness to miracles.
the serpent uncoils and slithers across stars, its body wrapping around planets. it hungers for love, death, creation, and destruction. the serpent swallows its tail again and continues to eat.