For a long time I thought I had to find an identity or a philosophy to hold in my poetry. I got obsessed with this and fell into a trap.
It distracted me from why I became a poet in the first place.
The reality is that being a poet doesn’t mean struggling to hold onto anything, whether that’s an identity or a set of ideas. Being a poet means living in the moment, being present. It’s expressing and it’s being.
It’s stepping into the greatness that is the unfolding of life and putting it into words. It’s letting your unique personality colour your words.
Being a poet isn’t about holding onto something or proving something.
It’s about becoming and expressing your experience, and in that process you find the joy of understanding the eternal now, the eternal moment, which is life itself.
Going forward, blogs will be less about ideas and what I think and more about being.
~ jestora
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I like people who move through life on their own terms who laugh at the world and still stay themselves. Nasruddin Khoja, also called Nasruddin Hojja or Johar, is one of those people who inspired me. His stories, his humor, and his way of being completely himself effortlessly made me stop and think. I clicked with him because he moves freely, teaches without preaching, and protects his sense of self while making the world smile.
This is what I want my work to do. My poetry is like that. It is funny, light, independent, and full of quiet wisdom. It does not lecture. It shows, it surprises, it makes you see things differently, and it might even make you laugh at yourself along the way. That is how art can be free. That is how it can teach without trying too hard.
Media is just another way to do the same thing. Stories, videos, performances, platforms, I use them to share ideas and emotions that stick but without forcing anyone to follow. I want people to notice, to pause, to smile, to think, and maybe even to move a little differently afterward. It is subtle, playful, and honest. It is about freedom.
The donkey on my logo is a little tribute to all of this. Calm, unhurried, sovereign. It moves at its own pace not because it cannot rush but because it will not be rushed. What looks stubborn is really independence. It carries weight without drama and walks forward without bending to anyone’s expectations. Like Nasruddin, like my work, it teaches quietly and moves freely.
This is Jestora. My poetry and media promise to be thoughtful without being stiff, joyful without being shallow, and clever without being showy. It is an invitation to experience life differently, to breathe, to move at your own pace, and to see the beauty of being free. Relaxed. Sovereign. Untouchable.
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Identity matters. Most people have their identity defined by the external world. They take it seriously. It’s life or death for them and there is no humour, honesty or even a playful attitude about such a topic. In this blog post I will discuss how I found my own pen/artistic name and how this identity has an affect on my art and life at large.
Foundations
In a previous post, (you can find below this section) I discuss how play and joy were the foundation of my art. Once I realised this, I discovered that what I was really looking for in my poetry was to take this idea further.
I wanted my art to represent a playground. I wanted my life to represent this too. Upon realising this, I discovered that we are constrained by identity and I certainly was. I was taking abstractions connected to my own identity too seriously and I knew that Jestora was my way out.
Purpose of My Poetry
Jestora represents a playground and a beautiful space where we can explore our creative energies, ideas, insights and intuitive insights. My mission is to bring poetry, ideas and energy to life and to create a playground where people can explore, play and be inspired.
My vision is a world where curiosity, play and creativity transforms everyday life into a living playground for everyone. To return briefly to the foundations, my values are:
Play
Curiosity
Creativity
Courage
Connection
I propose a different view to the poetry community. Whereas poetry is seen as a serious topic, I aim to make life playful, poetic and full of wonder. I am to use my art to create an experience you can feel, laugh with and step into.
Unlike traditional poetry or intellectual spaces, I create a living world and a playground for people to explore, play and be inspired.
This unique aspect is why the tagline for my brand is ‘off-script’.
Why my poetry will make the world a better place?
All religions discuss why the world is an illusion and something not to take too seriously, for good reason. It’s usually the most serious people who end up causing the most disaster and trauma to the world. The people who take their identity too seriously that they become fanatical.
Its their way or the high way and being so convinced, they assume (even logically) that the next step is for them to gain power and force others to follow them. People fight for land, nationalism and their interpretation of faith. In the name of the sacred they break the sacred.
It reminds me of a quote from the film the kingdom of heaven:
“Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves, and goodness. What God desires is here [points to head] and here [points to heart] and what you decide to do every day will make you a good man…or not.”
My poetry creates a space, a playground so that human beings can get away from the savage battlefield. Jestora from the words (Jest and Aura) is the man who does this. An identity, yes but one that anyone can become. One that I am now.
– Jestora
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Love moves through me first in my heart. It pierces, it squeezes, and it spreads through my entire body. Sometimes it is heavy, almost unbearable, yet even in that weight, my heart feels alive. All of me feels alive. This love does not ask for anything. It does not plead or demand. It simply dominates me, filling every corner of my awareness and every pulse of my being.
My thoughts circle endlessly around the person I love. They flow toward their attention, their presence, their being. Even when I try to focus elsewhere, my mind returns to them. Beneath these thoughts is longing, a deep tenderness that swells inside my chest. My heart becomes soft, full, almost vulnerable in its openness. Yet alongside this tenderness sits a fear, a subtle panic that the connection might slip away, that the feeling might vanish. When that fear rises, my mind feels consumed and helpless, sometimes wanting to give up. But I cannot. Love gives me a sense of aliveness that makes surrender impossible. Even in panic, even in dread, it carries me forward.
When love flows fully through me, it humanizes me. It softens my edges, quiets my ego, and grows my patience. I show up in the world with gentle grace, responding to others with ease and tenderness. I feel relaxed around everyone. I become more easy-going, more gentle than I ever was before. The ordinary frustrations of life, the pressures and petty concerns, lose their weight. I handle them lightly, without making them about myself. I am absorbed in the fullness of this feeling, and the small difficulties of the world no longer burden me as they once did.
Love carries me into moments of pure sensory joy. It takes me to happy days from my childhood. The world feels like a warm summer night, full of light, laughter, and wonder. Every detail, the soft air, the quiet sounds, the gentle atmosphere, makes the feeling stronger. In these moments, I do not see myself as someone who must race for power, climb for status, or secure a legacy. Love brings me back to what is essential. It reminds me that I am human, that I exist to feel, to experience, to connect. My focus narrows to the present, to the beauty of this feeling. I live fully in the moment and savor it. Time slows, stretching out each breath, each heartbeat, each sensation, making it feel peaceful and profound.
My body carries the feeling of love as fully as my mind does. Sometimes my breath grows heavier, my heartbeat quickens, and words feel trapped behind the weight of the emotion. It intoxicates me like a gentle, blissful view of a perfect beach. The rush of feeling is both overwhelming and exhilarating. Even when panic appears, my responses are tempered by the innocence of the heart. I feel like a child, vulnerable, scared, longing to be held, but the fear does not diminish the joy. It is part of the depth, part of the totality of this experience.
I imagine a future with this person, a continuation of the feeling that both aches and sustains me. In these moments, the heaviness softens, leaving only the pure joy of love. My inner voice fades, leaving me absorbed in the intensity of this feeling. Even in longing, I feel complete. Love is not a craving or a need. It is a presence, a living force that carries me, softens me, and humanizes me.
At my deepest core, I know who I am. I am someone who wants to fall in love and to be associated with love. Power, legacy, and glory no longer hold meaning. Love is my essence, my center. It shapes my thoughts, my actions, and the way I connect with others. It makes me more alive, more open, more present, and fully human. It teaches me to handle difficulties lightly, to care less about petty burdens, and to live fully in the moment.
Love is intoxicating, grounding, freeing, and complete. It rises and falls, moving through longing, tenderness, fear, joy, and fullness. It quiets the noise of the world, softens my mind, and illuminates the beauty hidden in everyday life. There is no feeling more powerful in the world than this feeling. It is who I am at my core, and it is everything I wish the world could understand.
– Muaad
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(Check the bottom of this blog post for the full list)
47 Books, One Year, and the Brutal Beauty of the Human Condition In 2025, I read forty-seven books. Not because I wanted a number, or to impress anyone, but because I was searching. Searching for understanding, searching for answers, searching for something that could help me navigate the weight of being human. That year was heavy. Not in a dramatic way, but in the quiet, persistent way reality presses down on you when you begin to notice it, when you start really seeing life.
Across philosophy, poetry, religion, history, and psychology, the same lesson appeared again and again: everything is impermanent. Lives change suddenly. People disappear. Empires rise and fall. Moments dissolve. What we hold dear can vanish. And when the things we depend on for meaning are themselves fragile, meaning itself begins to feel fragile. And with that fragility comes the human condition in its rawest form: sensitive, overwhelming, frightening. That truth is brutal, and yet, it is also beautiful, because it demands we face life fully, without illusions.
Some books weighed on me more than others. Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat struck me first. His reflections on the fleeting nature of existence made me feel the urgency of every day, a pressure I had never felt before. Life keeps passing, with or without my consent, and if I wanted meaning, I had to find it in the moment. Each sunrise, each conversation, each small act carried significance precisely because it would not last forever. Reading Khayyam, I realized that life demanded my attention, demanded that I love it fully, and demanded that I discover meaning in the small details.
Ghalib’s poetry reinforced the same lesson. In his verses, I found someone who loved life in all its pain and absurdity. He did not avoid suffering or disguise his despair. He recorded it, embraced it, and transformed it into art. Reading him, I saw that human vulnerability could be beautiful and instructive, that expressing our condition—not running from it—is what gives it meaning.
The Anarchy by Dalrymple struck me differently. Here were lives unfolding in relentless realism. Generals, rulers, rebels, everyday people—all living, striving, failing, and dying. I watched them on the page, and I felt awe and fear. The sheer force of destiny in their lives was palpable. No matter how clever or determined, they could not escape the arc of fate. Reading it, I understood something profound: to live fully, I had to embrace my context, my place, my destiny, rather than struggle endlessly against it. And yet, even in this weighty reality, the brilliance, strategy, and beauty of human action shone through.
These insights were not just theoretical. They appeared in real moments of my life. Graduation became more than a ceremony; it was a confrontation with impermanence and change. Holidays, moving home, leaving a long-term side job—each transition felt charged with meaning. I could have been anxious, overwhelmed, or numb, but instead, I carried with me the lessons of Khayyam, Ghalib, and Dalrymple. I faced my human condition, accepted it, and expressed it. Through writing poems, sharing them, connecting with loved ones, I lived these lessons. I told friends how I felt, spent time with those I care about, and let love and honesty guide my interactions. It was in these small acts, in these choices, that theory became life.
Not every book was heavy. Some surprised me in ways I never expected. Baburnama revealed Babur as a poet, a chronicler, and a man of vivid life, not just the founder of an empire. 1984 shocked me with the horror of its vision of society, and The Travels of Ibn Battuta inspired awe with its sheer depth and meticulous observation of a world long gone. Each book reshaped my expectations of what a life, a story, or a historical record could be.
Some books made me laugh. Nasreddin Hodja by Arumugam Raj captured the trickster of the East, a character ridiculous yet wise, outrageous yet enlightening. His stories reminded me that life is not only to be endured or analyzed but also to be played with, enjoyed, and sometimes simply laughed at. Humor, insight, and wisdom can coexist in the strangest, most delightful ways.
Other books challenged my beliefs. Tao Te Ching and The Way of Chuang Tzu taught me that control is not always strength, that sometimes the most powerful approach is to flow with life rather than fight it. Majma al-Bahrain by Dara Shikoh expanded my view of comparative religion, showing that faith, philosophy, and inquiry could intersect in ways I had not considered. These books forced me to step outside my assumptions and see the world differently, and in doing so, they expanded my mind as well as my heart.
Awe and wonder appeared most clearly in The Anarchy. I shivered at the realism of life and death, of human brilliance and failure, and of the unstoppable flow of history. But awe was not limited to history. It appeared in the quiet poetry of Rumi, in the philosophical clarity of Seneca, and in the deep connection to nature in The Wisdom of the Native Americans. That book reminded me how materially obsessed modern life is, and how deeply we can learn from simplicity, observation, and presence.
I also discovered clarity and strategy in books like The Book of Five Rings, The Warrior Ethos, Genghis Khan, and Worldly Wisdom by Baltasar Gracian. These works taught me about thinking strategically, rising from any situation, and seeing patterns where others might see chaos. They reminded me that intellect alone is powerful, but without direction and purpose, it can falter.
Creativity and self-expression flourished as well. Love Is My Savior by Rumi and Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl opened my heart to love, the very force that fuels poetry. They reminded me that the intellect can observe and analyze the human condition, but the heart—love—empowers us to act within it. It is love that transforms insight into creation, observation into expression, and knowledge into art. Through these readings, I felt my poetry gain depth, clarity, and courage.
Looking back, the most persistent lesson across all forty-seven books is the brutal reality of impermanence. Every book, in its own way, confronted me with it. The human condition is heavy. It can paralyze, frighten, overwhelm, and make us painfully sensitive. And yet, this same reality makes life urgent, precious, and beautiful. It demands that we face it fully. Across poetry, history, philosophy, and spirituality, one truth became clear: the intellect can see patterns, systems, and the fragility of existence, but it is the heart—powered by love—that allows us to endure, to act, and to create meaning.
Rumi calls love a savior, and I understood why. Love gives the courage to confront impermanence without collapsing under it. It turns awareness into action, observation into expression, and fragility into strength. Love allows us to engage with the human condition fully, to see its weight, and still say yes to life.
Among the forty-seven books I read, some stood out in ways that continue to resonate with me. For reflections on impermanence and the urgency of life, Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat and Ghalib’s selected poems offered insight into living fully, embracing the moment, and finding meaning even as everything passes. The Anarchy revealed the relentless flow of human history, showing the interplay of destiny, choice, and consequence. For surprise and discovery, Baburnama introduced me to a ruler who was also a poet and chronicler, 1984 revealed the chilling possibilities of society, and The Travels of Ibn Battuta took me on an extraordinary journey across centuries and continents.
Joy and laughter came from Nasreddin Hodja, whose trickster wisdom reminded me that life can be playful, absurd, and insightful all at once. Challenges to my thinking arrived through Tao Te Ching and The Way of Chuang Tzu, teaching me that flow and acceptance can be powerful tools, while Majma al-Bahrain opened my eyes to the richness of comparative religion and spiritual inquiry. Awe and wonder emerged from the stark realism of The Anarchy, the mystical beauty of The Wisdom of the Native Americans, and the philosophical clarity of Seneca’s On the Shortness of Life.
Books that strengthened strategy, clarity, and practical wisdom included The Book of Five Rings, The Warrior Ethos, Genghis Khan, and Worldly Wisdom by Baltasar Gracian. Creativity and self-expression were nurtured by Love Is My Savior and Man’s Search for Meaning, which reminded me that love is the fuel of art and courage. Spiritual insight and guidance came from Rumi, Ghazali, the Dhammapada, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Qur’anic sciences, each offering ways to see the world, the heart, and the soul more deeply. History, philosophy, poetry, and spirituality intertwined, creating a year that was intellectually challenging, emotionally stirring, and profoundly human.
This is the gift of reading deeply in a single year. Each book is not just a story or an argument; each is a companion on the journey, a teacher that meets you where you are, and a mirror reflecting the questions, doubts, and discoveries you carry within yourself. In 2025, I discovered that the human condition is heavy but also radiant. That impermanence is inevitable but can be embraced. That love, expressed fully, gives the courage to face life’s fragility without collapsing under it. Each book, in its own way, contributed to that understanding.
I read forty-seven books in 2025, and each one was a step into impermanence, a step into wonder, and a step into love. And that is the gift I carry with me into 2026: the courage to face life fully, to express myself openly, to love deeply, and to find meaning not in permanence, but in the strength, beauty, and resilience of my own heart.
– Muaad Sucule
Book List:
Finite & Infinite Games by Carse
An Essay on Man by Pope
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
Jesus & Buddha: The Parallel Sayings by Borg
Majma Ul Bahrain by Dara Shikoh
The Queen of Spades by Pushkin
The Anarchy by Dalrymple
Baburnama by Babur
Gilgamesh
The Book of Five Rings by Musashi
The Dhammapada by Fronsdal
The Forbidden Rumi by Ergin
Gateway to the Quranic Sciences by Suyuti
The Way of Chuang Tzu by Merton
The Warrior Ethos by Pressfield
Genghis Khan by Weatherford
The Luzumiyat by Al-Ma’ari
1984 by George Orwell
Ghalib: Selected Poems by Pritchett & Cornwall
Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu
The Colours of My Heart by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
The Sufi Doctrine of Rumi by William C Chittick
Aristotle for Everybody by Mortimer J Adler
On the Harmony of Religions & Philosophy by Ibn Rushd
On The Shortness of Life by Seneca
The Alchemy of Happiness by Ghazali
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam by Edward Fitzgerald
The Travels of Ibn Battutah by Ibn Battutah
The Bhagavid Gita
Thinking Fast & Slow by Kahneman (Summary)
Worldy Wisdom by Baltasar Gracian
The Wisdom of The Native Americans by Kent Nerburn
The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan Watts
Twenty Love Poems by Pablo Neruda
God Exists by Said Nursi
The Conquest of Happiness By Bertrand Russell
Sunrise On The Reaping By Suzanne Collins
The Book of Everything By Sanai
Trickster Makes This World By Lewis Hyde
Collected Poems of Imam Shafie
Eminence: Cardinal Richelieu and the Rise of France By Blanchard
What is Enlightenment? By Kant
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E Frankl
A Message to Garcia by Elbert Hubbard
Nasreddin Hodja by Raj Arumugam
Deliverance from Error by Ghazali
Love is My Savior: The Arabic Poems of Rumi by Rumi
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For those of you who are new to my blog page, my name is Muaad Sucule and I became a poet in my early twenties. This path eventually led me to find a lasting source of joy in my life. This is why I identify myself as a poet of joy. This joy is not something available only to people who write poetry.
That’s me, Muaad Sucule, presenting a poem at Amsterdam’s House of Stories
It is available to everyone and my poetry is about sharing these insights with the whole world. Joy, in our world, is in three steps:
This was the process that I went through and when I look at others around me who are also happy, they have also been through a similar experience.
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My journey didn’t start so well but like the soothsayer from Kung Fu Panda said: “Your story may not have such a happy beginning, but that does not make you who you are, it is the rest of it—who you choose to be,” is from the movie Kung Fu Panda 2. My story started with much difficulty. I was confused and I suffered from many difficult emotions.
At the same time, things were not going so well for me in my personal life and the world around. Eventually, you will give up and when you give up you realise that your ego (I.E. your image of yourself) couldn’t help you out of this situation and it couldn’t help you because it doesn’t exist.
You might be wondering, why is this a good thing? It’s because your image of yourself leads you to a type of psychological hell. It leads you to unnecessary conflict, internal frustration, close mindedness and causes you to make decisions that get rid of your peace.
Once this is out of the way, you begin to flow with the world around you. You begin to become more open minded, laugh more, have less internal frustration and the only conflicts in your life will be ones that are not caused by yourself.
You will become engaged with the world as you will see the world and understand that its a wave that you’re a part of and not a conflict that you’re struggling against. Then you will ride that wave into the future for the rest of your life.
This doesn’t mean you won’t have difficult or painful moments in your life but it does mean that you will always have the comfort of knowing that whatever pain you’re enduring – it will remind you of your real essence.
We can live lives that are joyful, meaningful, honest and bright. It is possible and that is what my poetry is all about.
A poem I always recite (written by me) is the following:
I am a flute,
Played by time,
My actions were never just my own,
Me and you are walking stories,
We are walking songs.
– Muaad
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“Like the masked guests of 18th century balls, we don’t always arrive with confidence; sometimes we wear it until it becomes our face.” – Muaad Sucule
Sometimes we wake up on a Monday and we aren’t motivated at all. Maybe we miss the weekend, maybe we are sick and tired of the grind and imagine a life where we were just born rich. Or maybe you’re not motivated because its November, the weather is not cool, you’re not seeing your friends as much and life is strange.
This is where the idea of ‘acting’ must come in. The truth is, you will be judged by people and even yourself on how you deal with moments in your life when you don’t have motivation. This where the ideas of mysticism, the trickster and the ego can all come together.
Acting until the you don’t have to any longer
Sometimes you have to act until the moment comes. Sometimes being alive feels like riding a powerful and happy wave and other times it feels like there is no wave at all. It all falls flat. In these moments, its good to remember that the word persona in Latin means mask.
When life feels overwhelming, its good to go into the mystical consciousness by zooming out and ‘riding the wave’ and when life feels flat, that is the perfect time to put on your persona and interact with the world and then you will find your rhythm again.
Conclusion
Find your motivation by playing the game of life when life feels flat and you don’t feel like going. Sometimes, healing also means putting on your mask and getting out there again until you are simulated.
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By mysticism, I mean having an intuitive grasp of what life is truly about. I mean seeing, with suddenness, the facts that surround us. The word mysticism is a loaded word which I find unfortunate but I believe many people have an experience where they suddenly see things for what they are and not what they want them to be. They realise that they are connected to the outer world (not in the sense that they are one with it) but in the sense that they are a link in a chain that has existed thousands of years prior and will exists centuries after. This is a liberating feeling.
2. Practice
The path to mystical insight begins with the annihilation of the self. When the ego dissolves, one connects with the ultimate reality and naturally turns toward it in devotion. You taste the will of reality and rest content in it, like a flower fully opened to the sun.
This state emerges through deep contemplation of reality. True contemplation is not limited to formal meditation; it can unfold even as you work, as long as your attention penetrates the present moment. It is this sustained, mindful observation of life that awakens the mystical state.
Life’s difficulties naturally accelerate this process. Struggle erodes the ego, forcing humility and surrender. Those who face hardship with awareness often find themselves closer to the mystical experience than those untouched by challenge.
3. Experience
When one enters this state, the world reveals itself anew. Everything fascinates you, and you develop a profound desire to observe, understand, and worship the ultimate reality in all its manifestations.
This observation is peaceful and appreciative. You begin to love the world — not sentimentally, but because all creation is part of what shaped you. You recognize the sacredness of the Now, the eternal presence in which all things exist.
4. Philosophical Considerations
Can mystical knowledge be trusted?
Yes. Mystical insight is a valid form of understanding the human experience. It is not merely subjective; across cultures and ages, mystics have documented remarkably consistent experiences. The creative mystic, having transcended rigid identity, is often less prone to bias when observing others.
Furthermore, having such an experience makes you more creative. You are able to think outside the box, reflect deeply, contemplate deeply, analyse details longer and negate your ego so you can be a better imaginative mind. Such an experience heightens your attitude, increases your enthusiasm and drive thereby making you a better student.
Relationship to reason:
Reason is part of creation — it belongs to the mind and the intellect. Mystical insight does not compete with reason; it transcends yet complements it. One does not need to measure mystical knowledge against intellect, as they operate on different planes. The mystical insight improves reason the way a healthy body improves a healthy mind.
The ego problem:
The ego is not an enemy. It is part of who we are, and through mystical experience, it naturally transforms. There is no need to exaggerate or resist this process; it unfolds as life itself unfolds. Having positive pride in yourself is good, it is arrogance which is bad. Having confidence and excitement is good it is thinking you know everything, being fanatical and narrow minded which is wrong.
Universality:
All mystics touch the same ultimate reality. Some lose themselves in conceptual frameworks, sectarian views, or struggles to explain what they experience. Yet beneath all differences lies the same direct encounter with the source of existence. The mystical experience is like the body, so the minds of the mystics throughout time are different and therefore they would explain this experience differently.
5. Conclusion
Mysticism is a journey of direct encounter, deep contemplation, self-surrender, and worship of the ultimate reality. Life’s difficulties, far from being obstacles, are teachers that erode the ego and bring us closer to the divine source. Through awareness, observation, and appreciation of the present, one discovers a world filled with fascination, love, truth, and devotion.
To be a mystic is not to escape life, but to see life in its fullness — to open like a flower, entirely to the light of reality, and see with true rationality, the full facts that surround us.
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There was a moment that changed everything for me. I was moved by Rumi’s poetry, and in that instant I realized that poetry has the power to move us in ways nothing else can. Words on a page could touch the heart, lift the spirit, and open a door to meaning. That was the spark that set me on the path I walk now.
Before poetry entered my life, the world felt lonely and cold. I looked out and saw life as a war, a series of conflicts to survive. Every day felt like a battle, and even the quiet moments were heavy with the sense that something was missing. There was no colour in the way I experienced the world, only shades of gray.
When I began to write, the challenges came quickly. The first was vulnerability. As a man, I felt the weight of showing my emotions in front of others, of standing on a stage and opening my heart with confidence. It felt like walking unarmoured into a battlefield. Yet, I learned to embrace that vulnerability, to see it as strength rather than weakness. The second challenge was finding my voice. For years, I searched, unsure of what kind of poet I was meant to be. But eventually, after persistence and self-discovery, I found my voice. Once I did, it was as if the words finally belonged to me.
Over time, I learned that poetry is not a struggle between intuition and intellect, heart and mind. It is a process, a dance between the two. I listen to my heart and intuition, for they tell me how I feel about my experience in the world. Then I turn to my intellect and mind, using them to craft these feelings into powerful, well-formed art. The two are not enemies. They are partners, and when they work together, they create something genius.
Through poetry, I have become more than what I was. I learned lessons about media and communication theories, about presenting, writing, and design. I discovered skills I never knew I had, and more than that, I began to see the world differently. What was once colorless has now come alive. The world is no longer daunting; it is alive with possibilities, alive with stories, alive with meaning. Even when I face difficult emotions, I know I can transform them into verse, shaping them into something beautiful.
This is what I hope my readers carry with them after encountering my poems. Whether it is the creative form I chose, the ideas I explored, or the emotions and experiences I tried to capture, I want my words to stay with them. I want them to leave my poetry with something they did not have before, something that lingers and shapes the way they see the world.
Conclusion
I began as a poet of the heart, giving voice to emotion. Then I became a thinking poet, marveling at the mind’s many powers, its ability to reason, discern, imagine, judge, plan, and create. I came to see the intellect as a divine gift, capable of ordering the turbulent inner world and guiding action in reality.
Yet the mind alone is like a faithful servant locked in a specific arena, confined to its own domain. Only the prophetic light that touches the heart acts as the key, unlocking the cage, allowing the intellect to grow wings, and lifting it to a higher level where knowledge becomes clarity, insight becomes guidance, and understanding becomes life itself.
My poetry now stands at this meeting point, the disciplined mind touched by the heart of light, where thought is elevated, vision expanded, and the soul guided. Reason is awakened and set free, rising beyond its former limits. This is a new chapter.
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Jestora 