Writing - Part of the Book and an idea seedling

It starts from nothing at all, like everything else, starting and ending with the great blank slate. You build a life for you and your family, creating the world and everything in it anew for them. Somewhere for them to stand while you watch over them, even if non-participatory, non-interventionist, even when you no longer walk in the garden in the cool of the evening, you build it. With hope.

I built their world for them, and I built them, after my own image, of course. Doesn't every parent? I'm not sure I can write this story. The creation, what's involved in it. Imagine the scale, the immensity. There wasn't anything, and then there was light! Let there be light, as they say. And light was! Blinding flashes of the damn stuff, wheeling around in the chaos, the terror, the abyss suddenly having enough light to see by and stare back at me. Stare! Gaze! Burn! Burn brightly, never ending, that the echoes of the first light only reach the earth after 4 billion years. Did you ever poke yourself in the eye? That SEARING, agonising spear of light cascading into thousands of kaleidoscope patterns and voids and the afterechoes popping in to your vision when you just want to go to sleep? Fiat lux, indeed.

I was stuck on how to convey the epic massiveness of the act of creating in the book. Then I was thinking maybe it can be a repeated theme, a story growing in the telling. And then I thought ... why? My protagonist needs a reason to create the world. What if he was lonely?
Or bored?
Perhaps lonely is more poignant, like a young mum having a baby just so *something* loves them.
How literal am I going to be able to be about the story of creation anyway -- there's a lot mixed up in there that maybe I don't want in. It's really interesting, I think I need to think more about how to get the themes I want in there tied together.