I create because I expect God to show up in my hands, because I believe something impossible will happen when I arrange these words, when I shape this clay, when I birth this thought that never existed before, and every time I begin something new I am betting my life that the universe will conspire with me, that what lives in my chest will somehow translate to what lives in yours, and I have been wrong a thousand times but I keep expecting miracles because creation is not about skill it is about audacity, it is about demanding that matter obey spirit, and I will die expecting the impossible