When you can imagine you begin to create and when you begin to

In the words of Ben Okri, the poet-seer of our age, we are given a vision both tender and triumphant: “When you can imagine you begin to create and when you begin to create you realize that you can create a world that you prefer to live in, rather than a world that you’re suffering in.” This is no mere encouragement to dream — it is a call to arms for the spirit, a commandment for the soul to rise from the ashes of despair and take part in the divine act of creation. In his words, the power of imagination is revealed not as fantasy, but as freedom itself.

To imagine is the first stirring of liberation. Every change that has ever come upon the world — every civilization built, every discovery made, every act of courage performed — began first as a vision within the human mind. When the heart dares to see something better than what is, it plants the seed of transformation. For imagination is the womb of all creation, the sacred ground from which the possible is born. Okri speaks to that eternal truth: that man’s greatest prison is not the world around him, but the one within him, and imagination is the key that opens its gates.

Look to the story of Nelson Mandela, who spent twenty-seven years behind the stone walls of Robben Island. In that place of silence and sorrow, he was surrounded by cruelty and confinement. Yet he said later that he was never truly imprisoned, for within his mind he walked freely among his people, envisioning a South Africa reborn in peace and equality. His imagination became his sanctuary and his forge. When at last he emerged from that narrow cell, he brought with him the world he had imagined — and by his courage, that vision took form. He created a world he preferred, not by denying the darkness, but by transforming it through the light of inner creation.

Okri’s wisdom teaches that to create is to resist despair. When the world becomes unbearable, when one suffers beneath the weight of cruelty or loss, the soul must not surrender to bitterness. Instead, it must begin to build — in word, in art, in action. To write a poem when one’s heart is broken, to plant a tree in a place of ruin, to speak truth where silence has reigned — these are the acts by which the human being transforms pain into power. For every creation, no matter how small, declares to the universe: “I am not defeated. I am still shaping the world.”

And yet, this creation is not limited to art or invention. Every choice, every word, every act of kindness is part of creating the world you prefer. The mother who teaches her child gentleness amidst violence, the teacher who kindles curiosity in a place of ignorance, the worker who labors honestly though unseen — each one is a quiet creator, reshaping the world’s spirit one gesture at a time. For the world is not only what it is made of — it is what we believe it can become.

The ancients would have called this the sacred power of “making,” the divine flame that the gods placed within mankind. Prometheus stole fire for humanity — but Ben Okri reminds us that the greater fire burns within us still: the power to imagine and to create anew. To deny that gift is to live chained in suffering; to embrace it is to walk as co-creators of destiny.

So let the lesson be carved upon the heart: Do not dwell only in the world you see — build the one you long for. When you are wounded, create healing; when you are silenced, create song; when you are lost, create meaning. Begin first in the quiet temple of your mind, where imagination breathes life into vision. Then bring that vision forth into the realm of action, shaping it with hands, words, and deeds.

For as Okri tells us, the power to create the world you prefer lies already within you. The chains of suffering are illusions sustained by fear. But once you begin to imagine, you begin to create — and once you begin to create, you awaken the truth that has guided every sage, artist, and hero across time: the world is not something you endure — it is something you can make.