Creation not ex nihilo, for all matter is that shall be and cannot be created or destroyed, only re-organised, reshuffled, like pieces in a shifting puzzle, or the notes within the stave, position altered to make sounds majestic like the breath of dawn upon dry ribs, the tune of rising life, of fluctuating spirit, working in the scheme already fixed, yet shifting. But what privilege to plant seed and see it grow, to see these atoms move, rearrange in ever-changing harmony! As though the Maker of these things, had set within unchanging self the wish to see our hands participate in the turning of this soil, this mixing of colour, of sound, as though His father’s wish was to share beauty’s growth and to make it grow through us.
What does it mean for humans to create? This is a question that has always been important to me, as a creative person. But as I have delved further into my Masters degree, much of which is concerned with the role of creativity in education, it has become something I have pondered more and more. This poem is a step towards considering particularly what it means to work creatively under a creator God.