The Unsayable

The world is mostly made up of the unsayable. That is why we need poets and artists, the true ones. The dimensions that words can never touch are really what make up our experiences from one moment to the next. The tiniest bit of it is sayable. The rest is not.

I find it painful, somewhat, this isolation of seeing, feeling and experiencing so much that language cannot be a carrier for. As deeply grateful as I am for the tool of language, at this I am moment acutely aware of its limits. Death does trump everything.

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