Writer's block

How am I feeling?

Hopeless.

Hopeless in my search for one simple word.

In my mind spans countless universes in tales of time, magic, adventure and sorrow.

Battles upon airships and deception in the hallowed chambers of time.

Seduction in royal courts and crazy inventors meddling with the arcane.

Childhood adventures of wonder and violent takes on the mercenary way of life.

But my fingers clam up over one specific adjective describing one specific footstep on one specific stone.

This singular, imaginary stone that exists solely within the walls of my psyche.

Still…

Dull…

This stone has been the one constant of my storytelling process.

No matter how frequently the character or plot changes, the whole story balances on this singular stone.

Worn…

Simple…

This stone is of my own creation.

I laid the foundations of the city.

I carved the mountains from the ether and topped them with shimmering castles of marble and granite.

I manipulated the streams as the grew from the dew resting in valleys of my design.

I am the killer of the innocent, vindicator of the unjust.

I am the aims and goals and loves and losses of the lives that I write.

This world is me.

But for now, it lies incomplete.

And just as I am the dragons in the sky, I am but a simple stone.

Sat amongst thousands of similarly imperfect, complacent stones.

Waiting for an adjective that feels right.

But for now, I am left with one.

Hopeless.