Where did you come from, snake

You slid from the shadow of the ancient stone, a ripple in the fabric of the fading afternoon. No sound disturbed the dust motes dancing in the last sunbeams, no rustle betrayed your passage across the dry leaves. Just a sudden, elegant presence, a question made manifest in scales and sinew.

Where did you come from, snake?

Were you born of the deep, slow dream of the earth itself? A fragment of its forgotten pulse, given form? Did some primeval tremor, a whispered secret from the planetary core, solidify into that coiled perfection? Perhaps you were the very first line drawn across the chaos, a living boundary, a moving horizon before the mountains learned to stand still.

Or did you emerge from the sun’s first fierce kiss upon the cooling world? A sliver of fire, quenched into living amber and jade, endowed with the sun’s silent heat and its relentless purpose. Are your scales, then, the memory of that blinding light, reflecting the world without truly belonging to it?

Perhaps you are a whisper that grew too strong, a rustle of leaves that decided to move on its own. A fragment of the wind, made heavy and wise. Or a shadow, detached from its source, that learned to slither and hunt and claim a heartbeat of its own. The shadow of the very first fear, given teeth and grace.

You carry the weight of untold ages in your serpentine glide. The wisdom of stone, the patience of roots, the swiftness of thought. You are the embodiment of transformation, shedding your past to embrace a renewed self, a living ouroboros perpetually beginning and ending.

Did you come from the silent moment before the first bird sang? Before the first beast roared? Were you there when the waters separated, when the land rose? A witness, always, to the unfolding of worlds, holding secrets in the cold depth of your unblinking gaze.

You are not just a creature of flesh; you are a living myth, a symbol etched into the oldest parts of our consciousness. You are the sacred and the profane, the healer and the poisoner, the guardian of forbidden knowledge and the bringer of swift end.

So, where did you come from, little river of scales? Perhaps you didn’t come from anywhere at all. Perhaps you simply are. Always have been, always will be. A timeless question, moving silently through the world, a living answer that grants no words, only the ancient, knowing silence of the wild.