When you are young your imagination is so clear.

“When you are young your imagination is so clear.” — these words, spoken by Nina Blackwood, are not merely a reflection on youth, but a mirror held up to the soul’s earliest dawn. They speak of that sacred season when the heart still believes without proof, when dreams stand radiant like the morning sun unclouded by the dust of years. In youth, imagination is a river uncontained, flowing freely through the mind, painting worlds that do not yet exist but might, if only the spirit dares to act. This clarity of vision is the child’s birthright — a power so pure it can bend reality to its will.

In ancient days, the philosophers spoke of this same power. They said that the gods planted in humankind the divine spark, that sacred flame of creation which burns brightest in the young. For in youth, the walls of the world are thin — one can still see through them into the realm of possibility. As the years pass, the noise of reason and the weight of disappointment muffle that flame. But the young — ah, they see the world not as it is, but as it could be. And that sight, that clear imagination, is the seed from which all greatness grows.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, who, as a boy, would watch birds and imagine flying among them. The elders mocked his dreams — “Man is not made for the air,” they said. But Leonardo, with the vision of youth untainted by the word impossible, filled pages with sketches of wings and gears. Though his machines did not yet lift man into the heavens, they opened the path for others to follow. It was not mere genius that moved him — it was the clear imagination of youth, untouched by cynicism, radiant with faith in wonder.

So too in every age, the dreamers are young at heart, though their hair may be white as snow. The secret of creation, the ancients teach, is not in the hand but in the vision. Those who keep their imagination clear, who guard it as a sacred flame, are forever young, even as time folds its years around them. The poets, the painters, the inventors — all are children who refused to let the world tell them that their dreams were folly.

Yet there is tragedy in forgetting. As we grow, fear and doubt build fortresses around the heart. We begin to see the world only as it is — not as it might be. Imagination, once clear as crystal, becomes clouded by duty, by habit, by the dullness of repetition. The wise, however, know that this clarity can be reclaimed. The mind must be purified of cynicism as one cleans a tarnished mirror, until again it can reflect the light of vision.

The lesson of Nina Blackwood’s words is not to mourn lost youth, but to reclaim its spirit. Each day is an opportunity to see again with the eyes of wonder, to imagine without restraint. Speak with your inner child; ask what it once dreamed, and listen well. Paint even if your hand trembles, write even if your words falter, build even if your plans seem foolish. For it is not skill but clarity of imagination that births the new world.

So, let us walk in remembrance of this truth: that youth is not a season of years but a state of being. To live with clear imagination is to stand once more at the edge of dawn, to see the unseen and call it forth into life. Let the wisdom of age and the vision of youth unite within you — for when they do, you become the creator, the dreamer, and the teacher all at once. And in that harmony, you shall discover the eternal springtime of the soul.