Truth?

I sit here stumbling page upon page of information, words, ideas, thoughts, pictures and images. It makes me question if that is what they TRULY wanted to portray. I feel that, at least for now the world DOES have limits. Writters rearrange the order of words to try and truly express what they want to. Photographers capture the world but it is really how they see it? The magic in the world does not want to be captured and yet we try nonetheless.
I feel like I am on the brink of truth, its when the heart is bare that you fine tune your ears to the pieces of wisdom that life is constantly bombarding us with. Its when its truly done right, that it evokes feeling that we refer to something as art. So maybe the truly optimal way of living would be to see oneself as just that, trying to be art.
Its that lingering connection you have with a poem, its that heart wrenching feeling you feel when you hear those lyrics, its that picture that moves you, the words on the page that touch you, THOSE are the moments you truly remember. It is being able to acknowledge the hearts whispers and to explore why that piece of art stirred up your emotions.
I believe the universe is perfect and everything happens for a reason. Humans were made curious but I wonder how much we interpreted "free will" to imply "disrupting perfection", an oxymoron all in itself.
Are there enough words in the dictionary to truly describe the ultimate truth? Or are these boundaries intentional? So one must look inside to find the truth, but truly FEEL their own truth.