There are great mysteries at the center of our existence, at the core of our beings. It's hard to talk about these mysteries, there really isn't a language that can translate them for us. And the language we do use is very shallow, sometimes misleading, or totally bland.
The best language turns out to be simple zen koan-type lines, or poetic riddles. And usually this type of language doesn't really explain mystery, but instead, usually deepens it.
All of our transcendent experiences are unexplainable. Even to ourselves. And the deep wells of sadness, or madness, or deep overwhelming clarity, are vast pools that can't be wrapped up or bounded by thought or action.
When we "forage" looking for treasures we must believe that the treasure really exists in order to have a chance of finding the treasure...