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No words...

You experience something you've never even imagined. Or maybe you have attempted to imagine it, but it ends up being more wild than your expectations.

You utter, "I have no words to describe this..."

From your lips a crescent of your own mystery, a swirl of curiosity in prayer.

How do we thrive in moments of loss words?

Do the words even exist in your native tongue?

Rather, how does language limit, or otherwise keep contained, of any experience whether it be in suffering or ecstasy?

How do we know the difference?

The English language does not posses an array of words for touch, yet Inuits have fifty words for snow.

I can think of words to describe touch, but no word carries the weight of such specific intimate contact.

I wonder why I want such words to exist.

How does one manage a craving for words that do not exist?

And mostly, does language help us experience? Or do our experiences surpass the need for it?

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