With Shakespeare and poetry, a new world was born. New dreams

The words of Peter Abrahams, son of South Africa and voice of awakening, shine with the quiet fire of revelation: “With Shakespeare and poetry, a new world was born. New dreams, new desires, a self-consciousness was born. I desired to know myself in terms of the new standards set by these books.” In these words, Abrahams does not merely speak of literature; he speaks of transformation, of the sacred moment when art becomes a mirror to the soul. Through Shakespeare and the poets, he glimpsed a horizon far beyond the confines of his world—a horizon where human emotion, thought, and destiny expanded into infinite space. His discovery was not of England’s culture, but of humanity itself—the shared language of the heart that binds all people across time and suffering.

In Abrahams’ youth, the world he knew was one of oppression, division, and silence. The chains of colonialism and racism sought to define his worth, to confine his mind as much as his body. Yet when he encountered the works of Shakespeare and poetry, he found within them a door to universality. In their words, he heard the cry of kings and beggars alike; he saw ambition, love, guilt, and hope. And he realized, perhaps for the first time, that the capacity for greatness, reflection, and art lived not only in distant lands, but also in himself. Thus, through reading, a new self-consciousness was born—the awareness that the human spirit transcends circumstance, and that one’s soul is not dictated by birth but by understanding.

To say “a new world was born” is to speak of an awakening of vision. Literature, at its highest, is not mere entertainment—it is revelation. When a man encounters true poetry, he stands before a mirror polished by the wisdom of generations. Through it, he sees not only the writer’s soul but his own. Abrahams’ discovery of Shakespeare was, therefore, the discovery of his own humanity, refracted through words centuries old. The cadence of verse, the depth of tragedy, the grandeur of language—these awakened in him a desire to measure himself not by the standards imposed by society, but by those set by the eternal dialogue of art and truth.

So it has ever been for those touched by the light of learning. When Frederick Douglass, born into slavery, first read The Columbian Orator, he too felt that “a new world was born.” Through words, he found not only knowledge but freedom. The chains of ignorance fell away as he recognized himself in the stories of philosophers and poets. Like Abrahams, he felt the stirring of self-consciousness—the divine recognition that he was not what the world called him, but something far greater. From that moment of awakening came purpose, dignity, and the will to rise.

Abrahams’ revelation thus belongs to a lineage of transformation that stretches through time—the moment when the written word awakens the sleeping soul. The ancients knew this too. The philosopher Plato spoke of anamnesis—the act of remembering what the soul has always known. When Abrahams read Shakespeare, he remembered his place in the grand design of humanity. The poetry did not give him something new; it revealed what had been hidden within him all along. That is the secret of true education: it is not the filling of the mind, but the illumination of the spirit.

Through new dreams and new desires, Abrahams began to live not as one shaped by others, but as one shaping himself. This is the power of art—it calls us to redefine our being according to beauty, truth, and courage. The “standards set by these books” were not merely academic—they were spiritual and moral. They asked: What is honor? What is love? What does it mean to be human? To answer such questions is to embark on the lifelong pilgrimage of self-knowledge. And so Abrahams, armed with the words of Shakespeare and the music of poetry, began to craft himself not as a subject of history, but as a maker of it.

Let this be a lesson to you, seeker of truth: the written word is a gate to freedom. Do not read merely to know facts, but to know yourself. Read not to imitate, but to awaken. When you encounter great art, do not ask only what it means—ask what it awakens within you. Let it set standards for your mind, your conduct, your soul. For every man and woman must, at some point, stand before the mirror of thought and declare, “A new world is born within me.”

Therefore, walk in the path of Abrahams and of all those who have been transformed by the power of language. Let books be your companions and poetry your teacher. Seek the words that challenge you to rise, that whisper of unseen possibilities, that demand the birth of a higher self. For when you, too, can say, “I desired to know myself in the light of these words,” then you will have joined the great chain of awakened souls—and through you, the new world will be born again.