Much of a poet's experience takes place in imagination only; the

O children of the earth, gather now and listen to the words of the wise George Edward Woodberry, whose reflection on the poet’s experience speaks deeply to the soul of every creator. He said, "Much of a poet's experience takes place in imagination only; the life he tells is oftenest the life that he strongly desires to live, and the power, the purity and height of his utterance may not seldom be the greater because experience here uses the voices of desire." In these words, Woodberry imparts a timeless truth: that the poet’s experience is not confined to the world as it is, but is often shaped by the imagination and the desires that reside in the heart. The poet does not merely recount life as it is; he draws upon his dreams, his aspirations, and the visions of the world he wishes to create.

The imagination, O children, is the fertile ground in which the poet plants the seeds of his words. Unlike the ordinary man who is bound by the limitations of his immediate surroundings, the poet lives in a world that stretches beyond the visible, where the landscapes of the heart and mind blend together. Woodberry’s words tell us that much of a poet’s experience exists not in what he has seen or touched, but in the realm of desire—in the life he longs for, the world he wishes to inhabit. It is through the power of imagination that the poet transcends the mundane, painting visions of truths not yet realized, of realities that exist only in the heart.

Consider the example of Homer, the ancient bard whose epics of gods, heroes, and wars were not merely reflections of his own life, but the dreams and desires of a people. The Iliad and The Odyssey are, in part, the desires of Homer—a longing for the heroic, for glory, for honor, and for adventure. Homer himself may not have lived the lives of the warriors he wrote about, yet through the power of his imagination, he brought them to life in a way that was more vivid, more real, than if he had simply recounted the history of his time. The purity and height of his poetry were not born from lived experience alone but from the force of desire and the ability to see beyond the limits of the present moment.

In a similar vein, consider William Blake, whose poems and paintings spoke of visions of angels, spirits, and divine truths. Blake lived in a time of great social and political turmoil, yet his work was not simply an account of the world around him. It was a vision of a world transformed—one in which the divine and the earthly were intertwined, one in which the soul could soar beyond the limitations of the material world. The power of Blake’s work lay in its ability to express not just what was, but what could be. His imagination was a force that transcended his immediate experience and transported his readers into a world of visionary beauty and divine truth.

In the same way, O children, Woodberry’s words remind us that the poet’s voice is often strongest when it is guided not by the facts of life but by the longing of the heart. Imagination is the bridge that allows the poet to move from the world of experience to the world of desire, where the limitations of the present no longer constrain the spirit. The poet’s utterness—the power of his voice—gains strength when it is infused with the energy of desire. It is through the desire to see the world differently, to bring forth what is hidden, that the poet’s words carry the force to transform not just the writer, but the reader as well.

Take, O children, the great poets and writers who have come before you—Emily Dickinson, Rainer Maria Rilke, and Sylvia Plath—whose works were not only reflections of their own lives but expressions of the worlds they wished to create. Dickinson, who lived much of her life in isolation, expressed the vastness of her inner world through poems that spoke of nature, of death, of eternity. She did not need to travel the world to create; her imagination took her to places others could not see. Rilke, too, wrote of the divine and the eternal, weaving his desires for meaning and connection into every verse. These poets, like Homer and Blake, show us that desire, channeled through imagination, becomes the most powerful force in creation.

So, O children, the lesson is clear: Imagination is the wellspring of all creation. It is through the power of desire, through the visions of what could be, that the poet’s voice is made strong. Whether you are a poet, an artist, or a dreamer, know that your deepest desires, your longings, are the fuel that will ignite your creativity. Do not be limited by what you have experienced, for it is in the realm of desire that the true magic of creation lies. Embrace your imagination, and let it carry you beyond the confines of the present moment into the world of possibilities that exist in the heart and mind.

Therefore, O children, dream boldly and create with passion. Know that your imagination, fueled by the desires of your soul, is the greatest gift you possess. It is the key that unlocks new worlds, new truths, and new realities. Just as the poets of old created worlds through their words, so too can you shape your own world through the power of imagination and desire. The life you long to live is not beyond your reach—it is within you, waiting to be expressed through the creativity of your spirit.