The being was all-consuming. Everything it touched was reduced to ash and infinite denizens of infinite realms were subjugated. It was simply known by the name that could never be spoken, out of fear that the whispers of eternity would summon its presence. Immeasurable pain and immeasurable pleasure were found at the eye of the storm but were irrelevant as the mass could not interpret either. Both everything and nothing could paint the picture needed to understand the confluence of ultimate power as its carcass swarmed with maggots and decay that no artist could ever capture. It simply was and would be, without beginning or end, and with neither alpha nor omega to be found in the writings on the wall.