Ambitious men and women are doomed, because Mother Earth has nothing left to give.
You can call me Milo, a childhood nickname, full-blooded Lakota. This site is dead but I still come here to read. RIP Tranquil Musings. You don't have to pm me. I do not write for the pleasure of others. I'm just someone passing by and I'm cool with that. I'm 31 and a lifetime it seems has passed me by already.
I have died so many times in my dream that I am starting to wake up eager to live. I enjoy writing stories especially from dreams more than poetry these days.
I am enthralled to the chase as the night horse continues to race among the dead. "Am I living or am I dead," says the lost soul along my way.
"I don't know what you are talking about stranger," not giving the person the time of day, "We are only dreaming in a world as far as the universe will allow us to. So why would it matter?"
"The real question is how far will your universe allow you to dream?"
I tricked the poor soul, who thought she was dead but now she is happy believing she is only dreaming in a world that belongs to her, pointing at me and telling me to obey and serve her in a pompous sort of way.
I shook my head and continued on with my dream, this is why the living shouldn't talk with the dead.
I dreamt of Bierce's Carcosa. The otherworldly city was empty and void of anything except for the loud winds. It was equally beautiful and terrifying. Whoever lived here is long gone in this unreachable and unattainable place. That will be us one day when we fail Mother Earth. Then I woke up sad.