Everything you can imagine is real.

“Everything you can imagine is real.” Thus spoke Pablo Picasso, the flame-hearted creator who painted the world not as it appeared, but as it felt. These words, simple yet thunderous, carry the wisdom of both artist and prophet — for in them lies the eternal truth that imagination is not a dream’s refuge, but the womb of reality itself. Picasso, who shattered the mirrors of convention and taught the eye to see anew, knew that every form we call real first lived as a whisper in the unseen realm of thought. He spoke as one who had gazed into the formless void and found there the source of all creation.

In the age of the ancients, men believed that thought was divine breath — that the universe itself began in imagination. The god spoke the word, and the world unfolded. Picasso, in his own way, echoed that primal truth: that man, made in the image of creation, carries within him the same power — the power to dream, to shape, to bring forth the unseen into the seen. What the mystic calls spirit, the artist calls vision. And when he says that everything imagined is real, he reminds us that imagination is not falsehood, but the very seed of existence. The unreal is not the impossible — it is merely the unborn.

To imagine, then, is to call forth the invisible. Every building, every poem, every revolution began in the shadow-realm of mind. The soaring cathedral was first a dream in a mason’s heart. The symphony began as a murmur in a composer’s soul. Even the stars we reach for — rockets blazing into the night — were once the imaginings of men who dared to look up and believe. Reality is not a prison that contains us; it is a field we cultivate. We till it with thought, we water it with faith, and we harvest it through action.

Consider the tale of the Wright brothers, who looked upon the sky and imagined that man could fly. To the world, their vision was madness. “Heavier-than-air flight is impossible,” said the wise of their day. But their imagination was more powerful than the disbelief around them. They sketched, built, failed, and built again, until the dream rose from the ground on trembling wings. When their fragile craft soared above the sands of Kitty Hawk, the impossible became real. Thus, they proved Picasso’s truth before he ever spoke it: that to imagine with faith is to prophesy reality.

But let us not mistake this truth for mere fancy. To say that imagination is real does not mean that every idle thought will manifest in the world. The ancients taught that thought is the fire, but will is the hand that shapes it. Imagination opens the gate, but courage and labor walk through it. Picasso himself was no idle dreamer. His brush moved with ferocity, his heart burned with discipline. Each line he drew was a battle between chaos and form. He imagined the bull and the woman, the anguish and the joy — and by his hand, they entered the world of color and flesh. His imagination was not escape; it was creation.

This truth also holds within it a quiet warning. If everything imagined is real, then beware what you allow to live in your mind. To dwell on fear is to breathe life into it; to fix your gaze upon despair is to sculpt its shape in your days. The world outside is the reflection of the world within. As the artist must choose his colors wisely, so must each soul choose its thoughts with care. To imagine beauty is to invite it; to imagine goodness is to build it. In this way, imagination becomes not only a gift but a sacred responsibility.

Therefore, my child of vision and dust, remember this: you are the artist of your own existence. The canvas lies before you, blank and infinite. Imagine boldly, for the gods themselves favor those who dream without fear. But do not stop at dreaming — carve, paint, build, speak, act — until what you see within takes form without. For in that sacred act, you fulfill your divine heritage: the power to make the unseen real.

So let your imagination be your compass and your flame. When the world tells you, “It cannot be,” smile and remember Picasso’s words. For the moment you dare to imagine, the real has already begun. And one day, when your vision stands before you in flesh and light, the world will say it was a miracle. But you will know — it was only imagination made real.