Drop

You know you are in big trouble when your next word might be your last. There's nothing to run on, not without a single worthy verb to take action. No use planting a a period on a blank page. What's the point of a point when there is no point to point out? Time to come up with who knows what. Perhaps a chance to buy another vowel at the very least. But that's all there is... and that is a cost that can't be afforded without making a concession you regret before the ink even dries.

Just blank empty page lying before you like a vast empty wasteland, a place where no ideas will blossom and flourish. Salted earth. Parched. Barren. Devoid of potential and full of...

Nothingness

Walk this parched desert where the dry bones of imagination's greatest mythical beasts once ran free until they could go no further. Then fell, shriveled, slowly turned to dust, leaving only a skeleton of what might have been but never was to be. No Phoenix will rise from the ashes of some burned pages, those fiery ideas that burn too hot flame out too fast. No Sphinx is left to pose its riddles.

Yet you forge on. Paying zero attention to just how dehydrating this drought takes a toll, trudging that white shiftless expanse, it sucks the life out of you bit by bit. The blood, sweat, and tears evaporating so fast you don't even know it is happening until a crustiness, a salty scab forms, becomes unbearable, because the chafing to come up with something, anything, is so distracting.

Then, before you know it, you slow down. Each step forward feels like two steps back. Finally, disorientation becomes your compass, with no true north to guide you, only an arrow that points to obstacles that can't be navigated. Cliffs to fall off. Valleys of death. Places from where there is no turning back.

What do you do now?

Well, you can start spit-balling ideas. Good luck with that. No use when everything close to an original idea went and dried up into something so brittle the thought is broken before it can even take flight. Too parched to hock out a damn thing.

That is when praying seems like good idea. Down on your knees, beg for a last resort. Hold your head back, look to the skies, and pray. Just one drop.

Please. Please. I beg of you... (who knows who?) I beg...

For just one... drop.