The more I get to know myself and the world, the less I can describe it. Words are not accurate anymore for what I am experiencing. Words seem like a big piece of untreated clay in the midst of beautifully handcrafted pottery.
Poetry already points to that fact. It uses words on the edge of experiences, that we can barely talk about. Only in a poetic way, the words point to a world beyond our logical mind. But then again poetry mostly paints pictures, metaphors, exactly because it tries to speak the unspeakable.