There was once a pangolin with scales of purple flourite. It had eyes of amethyst and claws of heliotrope. It stood solemn on the crystal axis, the axis on which the cosmos revolves.

The pangolin had stood upon this axis for eons and millennia, pacing up and down its mighty length. This almighty rod stood constant at the universe's center. It was made of an unknown mineral with crystals that glimmered gold in the starlight. This axis of crystal spanned the universe's diameter and had a girth to rival moons.

Few are fortunate enough to observe a part of the great rod's visage. Even fewer are fortunate enough to be close enough to examine the great axis up close. Rarer than both is to meet face to face with the cosmic purple pangolin.

Nobody quite knows what occurs in the creature's mind. It just paces down the length of the universal rod without pause. At times, it gazes upwards to observe the celestial bodies that go to and fro upon the cosmic theater, but its steps never falter and its paces stay perfectly regular. It does not eat, does not sleep, nor does it relieve itself. It is an untiring machine. Some conjecture state that the pangolin might not be alive at all, that it is an automaton whose purpose is to pace the length of the axis ad infinitum.

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The pangolin does not care. It heard them all. The pangolin had seen it all. The pangolin had taken an innumerable number of steps upon this crystalline axis and paced its length an unknowable number of times. It had witnessed countless deaths and births of stars. It had seen how the universe skate in its orbits and paths. It had seen how it could have flown apart and implode and explode. Very few celestial bodies ever fly by the great axis to check on the pangolin.

It was a beautiful sight, an unforgettable memory amongst a beach of countless others. The pangolin's mind is a treasure trove of such things, but no one can quite pry it from the pangolin.

And so the pangolin so paced up and down an axis immeasurable. Where it came from and when it came about is a mystery, but the mystery of its occurence is a greater mystery. It paced this great rod for as long as the cosmos had existed and it will pace it until it and the cosmos is no more.

The pangolin walks the length to the edge of space and end of time.

The pangolin continues on, and when all steps have been taken, it will make some more.

The pangolin will walk. The pangolin will pace. The pangolin is eternal.

The pangolin walks.