The limit of words is the living breathing lives of human beings, the flux of nature, and the interplay between the forces regulated by natural law.
The world of humans, and the world of words in particular, defy one another-this is obvious. The chants of craft, universal, and the beauty of rhetoric are often pitiful substitutes for the true spirit of human beings.
Yet, the quest is human. We are ego. We define ourselves. We crave the spotlight and the stage of self-definition. We must make a living. The world shifts and changes, and the image of something we are, something we have said, etched in stone is alluring.
Surely will we die. And if we are not something more than the flesh that will rot, once life stops breathing in us, it can seem that all was nothing at all.
I am sure some will call the conflict existential. A name for the conflict seems essential. How else could it be managed?
Those on the other side of the whatever binary, know better than most the confrontation with the cries towards beauty and the transcendental. These ideas, beauty, truth, and the transcendental may be the best money making idea in the empire. For these ideas and other "self-evident truths" can easily be sampled into the fray of otherwise questionable activities: war, political battles, and agendas that do far less than seek the best for humans.
Meditation on the limit of words can better help us understand their awesome power.