Reworded

Every
word out of
my mouth is new.
And, yet, each of them
has been spoken before, perhaps
even in this order. Everything I write is
somehow unique, but nothing I say is truly original.
The reason for this? We are not creators; we are re-creators.
We are not imaginers; we are re-imaginers. All that we utter, all that we pen,
all that we think, all that we invent, is not so new as we might believe. We draw inspiration from things around us. We combine ideas to form other ones, ones we call original. But we are not original because we can’t be. It is beyond our capacity. We cannot entirely create because we, ourselves, are created. God saw a world, and it formed. He wanted waters
to separate, and they did. He called for light, and it shone. He imagined land,
so it arose. He desired life, and it sprung forth. In many respects we are
like him, for we bear his image. Yet we pale in comparison to him.
Our ability to create is no exception. By grace we have
significance. The things we say and do actually
matter. And so I can only hope
that the phrases I repeat carry weight,
that the visions I recreate hold beauty,
that the ideas I reimagine have purpose,
and that the image I reflect is
good.

2 thoughts on “Reworded

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