At times I think senselessly
Unconnected dots stay freely floating, chaotic
Till I will the lines that make the picture and the moment.
I create, just like my God my father did me
I imitate him, weakly
Yet in my finished work, I still feel triumphant
Because in my feeble attempt to be like God
I am blown away by just how much I am human
While those senseless dots are not unique to me
The vision is, and therefore the burden of work is mine to carry
And that is glorious, my contribution to the great Creation
It is glorious that I, man, may contribute anything at all

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