epiphany?

there is a certain feeling that i wish i could explain well. it comes at the point when i realize that someone else defines, in a very real and accurate way, a feeling or view that i was unable to bring to the surface. this feeling of extreme joy and freedom with a pinch of relief brings a moment of ecstasy. i guess there's comfort in knowing someone else agrees with me?
i assume it's normal because i've never tried out a new brain, but my mind works with feelings much more than words (if only there were a blog where i could "post" feelings). the trouble is turning feelings into any communicable form (but maybe that's what creativity is for...i gave mine to the TV). my thoughts usually seem to be a blended mush of feelings connected to ideas, events, etc. i sometimes wish i could think more with words to more easily articulate ideas, feelings, etc. aaaaanyhow....the feeling of restlessness intertwined with the "travel bug" was temporarily freed because I read a poem (well, actually it's the preface to a book - but still a poem i suppose) by james kavanaugh. it might be a terrible poem; i don't know, and i don't really care...i like it.

thanks to dena's facebook, here it is
Searchers ~ James Kavanaugh

Some people do not have to search -
They find their niche early in life
and rest there,
seemingly contented and resigned.
They do not seem to ask much of life,
sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously.
At times I envy them,
but usually I do not understand them.
Seldom do they understand me.
I am one of the searchers.
There are, I believe, millions of us.
We are not unhappy,
but neither are we really content.
We continue to explore life,
hoping to uncover its ultimate secret.
We continue to explore ourselves,
hoping to understand.
We like to walk along the beach -
We are drawn by the ocean,
taken by its power,
its unceasing motion,
its mystery and unspeakable beauty.
We like forests and mountains,
deserts and hidden rivers,
and the lonely cities as well.
Our sadness is as much a part of our lives
as is our laughter.
To share our sadness with one we love
is perhaps as great a joy as we can know -
unless it be to share our laughter.
We searchers are ambitious
only for life itself,
for everything beautiful it can provide.
Most of all we want to love and be loved.
We want to live in a relationship
that will not impede our wandering,
nor prevent our search,
nor lock us in prison walls;
that will take us for what little we have to give.
We do not want to prove ourselves
to another or to compete for love.
For wanderers, dreamers and lovers,
for lonely men and women
who dare to ask of life
everything good and beautiful...
For those who are too gentle
to live among wolves.