I cannot produce an adequate title

I try to write,
To create magic
By combining letters
Yet my ability seem lost
The letters drift in front of me
In a blur of my confused mind
As I try to grab them, to form them,
They drift but further away,
Even more concealed in my mind's foggy mist
And I am but left alone,
My wand stolen,
My inability
To practise the magic
Of words
Lasting evermore
Never faltering
Always
Just
Here