The beginning was on odd thing. It wasn't defined or tangible–barely even conceptual. It consisted mostly of nothing. But back then it was easy to create and bring to life the imagination literally. Objects flashed in and out of existence unless believed-in hard enough. Meaning was at the whim of the mind's wishes. Whole worlds of curious wonder could explode into existence and fizzle out in a second like lit gunpowder.
But it was awfully lonely–awfully terribly lonely. The number of those who could create, the gods, was few to nil. It was impossible to tell if the tracks–made up of objects dreamt into existence–were those of another creator, or the searcher's own. It is plausible there is only one creator, and the idea of another is just of their own imagination, but they hope it isn't, or at least hope to believe into their own lie that it isn't. They'll keep looking regardless.