Limitations

The words flow like a stream through my mind, but the minute I stop to think about them they vanish. As if giving them a purpose makes them suddenly worthless. As if reason holds the ground around them, threatening to over power if they try to escape the boundary they forever reside in. The boundary I am becoming more familiar with, the boundary of language itself.

How can it do justice to the ever high, ever low rollercoaster journey that we all must suffer and devote ourselves to. The feeling that lives far below any surface formed over the weaving web of our consciousness. The feeling that chooses to dim or shine in accordance with the time, chooses to ride the flow of life as a true tamer of dragons.

How could I possibly form a sentence of something entirely formless? How could I possibly hold you to comprehending what it is I want to say?

How, even, could I possibly say it?