Swirling winds weaved through the void, voiceless songs rang across the winds.
In the dark, nothing could be. No time or space, lacking of structure and substance.
Deep within this void, a strand of hope stood. A Tree of Silver, at the heart a closed rose slumbered.
The winds swam around this tree and the songs reached out.
From the wind a child fell onto the formless ground, shapes morphed and split. He stood in that nothing, the tree towering.
Within a light blinked, the child smiled and walked toward it. He would sing and the song was finally given a voice. The heart blinked more, an aura of light shining through the dark. Like a moth, he raced toward its grace. His song flustered and the ground was given shape. The Rose, now sang too.
It's melody soft and out spoken. Together, a union was formed and shapes expanded. The dark pushed and a blooming light echoed.
Grass formed under his feet as the color came into being, its Shape so absolute. The rose glowed more, its song a moment and so time began. Ticking away as the boy became a man, his song became complex in form and tone. Space took hold, its Shape made solid and abstract. The Tree glowed and the Rose finally bloomed. It's spark the heart of creation, its host the binder of form and shapes. He now stood before it, their songs joining and evolving. The voiceless songs and the winds joined as well, the children within coming into being. They understood their meaning and would worship the Tree.
The man plucked a name and so forth, he would be called Antra. He would not see his people, for a thousand years. They would grow and become many in form. Exploring the new world that lay before them, singing different songs that came from one source.