Much words over the unexplainable

I need to write. I need to type what my mind is so longingly wishing to put into words. There are emotions and struggles that my fingers cannot put to use of adjectives or cleverly designed sentences. As the wind swirls the crisp, bright golden and cherry red leaves around my feet, I feel inside that they are alive, they whisper something unsaid in human understandable tones. In groans and forcefulness that my mind understands, but my words do not. The air cuts through my fingers and captures my breath in its presence, claustrophobicly taking my existence and screaming into my thoughts of the communication of words of the hushed whispers of God that are so wistfully hungering to be heard by the eyes of men, but passed by. There is more to life than waiting to understand it in formed words of the mouth, of the substance of the physical world. Life is looking into the inexperienced, reaching out to the needs of the unspoken and unexpressed, distinguished and understood by the bulging brown eyes of a starving child wistfully communicating the murmurs that the spirit can fathom, but the mind cannot. Why is so much restricted in words? Can we just open our blind eyes and see that life is more than this? Life is Christ. The Spirit of Christ is alive, more alive than any pronouncement or consciousness that our intellect or heart could apprehend. Only the agility and vital air of the Spirit of God can fully distinguish and take knowledge of what the meaning of our souls can be.