there are some things in me that are plainly ineffable. my principles, my opinions and my truths among them. and yet, i have always prided myself with the fact that describing things is what i do best. events to words. moments to words. even words to even better words. it's a glaring cliche, but i'm a writer (the rationale of an excessively and overly articulate, literary life) and being such entails that nothing should lie beyond the scope of my descriptive capacity.
but i find that there are things that can only be felt. there are things that exist and remain eternal even without proof. there is an irrevocable cognizance whose veracity lies with the gravity of its sentience - an entity beyond even the nomenclatural capsule of science! it's just like what the fox said in Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince... what is essential is invisible to the eye. because we know these to be true even without evidence that science calls real.
and these things that i sense only with intuition, these things that psychologically hasten my heart to the point of defense mechanism's conversion, these moving truths that leave phantom pains when met with my ignorance and arrogance... these i know to be true for they undoubtedly change me (however minute and however invisible to the sight of others). and change always implies a reaction. my reaction to powerful things that i can not give form with words. i find that there is just too much of these things when i feel them that giving them word is an impossibility. for try as i might, there will always be aromas that i can not write with such promise, colors whose hue i could not write with such boldness, and motion that i can not write with such animation. never can i write such an ambiance that presents such awe. and so, i choose not to desecrate such perfection and beauty with my lacking.
if in my arrogance, i defy my faculty of reason and try to capture it with my eloquence, always, there will be something missing... how deep the shadow was in the drama of light and shade i witnessed it, how the moment i found myself in shifted from inconsequential happenstance to serendipity and then to crystal clear clarity... these things will never be in the letters that give shape to my words. they elude the loops of my a's, e's and o's. they lie in the blanks of my whitespaces. they lie in the void that give shape to my paragraphs.
and so i chose to give word to these things, my simple truths, not with the stroke of ink on paper but with a mark that holds much more authority... a simple implication of its reality and its veracity.