And in the center, sitting quizzically in the eye of the hurricane, was a small child. The child did not know how it was born or who birthed it or what it was supposed to do. It simply sat, and looked at the chaos and the void and the tangled roots of the universe, and it formed a tiny speck of wonder. This was the birth of curiosity.
With that curiosity, some tangles began to align themselves with other tangles and create little threads weaving in and out between other threads. The child watched this from its place in the center, and noticed the change intently, filled with wonder at the new happenings.
With this wonder, the threads began to weave in and out, creating tiny repetitive movements. Some movements were predictable, and created patterns. The child noticed the patterns, and was amazed and puzzled at how things were turning out.
With this puzzlement, the patterns became even more distinguishable. Some threads began sticking to each other and forming complex structures. The tangled dance of the Chaos began to intertwine with a graceful new dance... a dance which birthed many wondrous new rhythms and gyrations and intriguing new patterns.
There was so much for the little child to learn, and so much it did not understand. There were forms taking shape, and the child wanted to know more about these mysterious forms. There were sounds appearing, seemingly out of nowhere, and it wanted to know what they could possibly be. Colors and textures were emerging, vibrant and beautiful and longing to be understood.
With this longing, beauty slowly unfurled, coloring the new patterns with breathtaking delight. The child widened its eyes at all the things it saw and could not understand. Its ears widened to catch each new vibration. Its arms reached out, skin prickling with goosebumps, at the silky, furry, grainy sensations. Its nose breathed in every exotic aroma, and its tongue prickled with a strange desire... it wanted to explore every new wonder, it wanted to reach out and grab everything with its tiny hand and figure out what all of these beautiful patterns mean.
The child could no longer contain itself. Something was pushing, reaching out from inside the child's head, growing bigger and bigger, longing to break free.
"Why?" was all the child said. And with that the world was born.