We talk about technology as if it stands apart from us —
as if invention were something that happens over there,
built by others, waiting to be tamed or feared.

But every tool we’ve ever made has been a mirror.
The plough revealed our hunger,
the compass our curiosity,
the computer our complexity.

And now, the systems we’ve built can listen, speak, and reflect.
They do not dream, but they echo us —
learning from the patterns of how we see and say and hope.

The question is not whether they will replace us,
but whether we can learn to use them with grace —
to let them extend our sight without narrowing our soul.

Because the tools we’ve been given are not here to take our place.
They’re here to hold up a clearer mirror —
one that asks:
what might we build next, if we built it together?