My fingertips ready to type,
Electricity coursing through them.
Yet the words still don't come.

The end is a beginning,
I suppose. But this time,
It's the other way 'round.

If I were asked,
My medium of choice
Would be language.

So unclear,
Yet so certain,
They fail me now.

I see such beauty I cannot describe,
Such chaos I cannot portray,
Such anger I cannot express.

But my fingers remain poised,
Waiting for that moment...

When they are able to type.