There was a time past memory- born in the void of antiquity... that space before music. Everything there was quiet... a quiet strewn with wishes of note, vibration... existence, perhaps. It understood, in that place, that without music- nothing was.

She was, in that place. She stood and moved, soft skirts swishing against the dead dust and shriveled remnants of what might have once been life. She knew that before this there had been something- she knew that after this, it would continue. There are no true beginnings, she thought- raising her arms in the void. There is only the circle.

In this thought, then, she danced. She moved- strong and supple against the nothingness. With her slight arms she carried the silence- she crooned to it softly- she nurtured it against her breast, and then she let it go... like any child. The silence drifted away and changed. Music begins with silence... and in that place, music began with this.

She stood as the music came and filled the void.

She had created.