Understanding?

Is this what I think it is?
A familiar feeling flitting through my mind,
Tracing itself out over lined paper
Scrawled in arterial red.
Exhilaration, and fear
Locked in combat, amplified by the
Quivering, tenuous threads of
Communication holding it together.
The screeching of a violinist, half-tuned,
Playing on a tight-rope as a billion
Alien faces look on.
Words meet words, but they cannot merge.
One must yield, and the other ascend,
Leaving a gap
Of understanding, and a hope
That humanity can fill it.