At the feet of the sublime
Sculpture of this Galaxy
I am in awe of how quickly
The billions of years went by

A dream of the key of water
We walked upon a floor of
Crystal, in many forms
And our souls traveled to peaks

Virtual landscapes and subliminal
Recognition that we had seen
All that we visited there, experience
Was itself an invocation of

The highest order, capable of
Giving us emotions of the divinity
Of things, the lips of the sun ablaze
As a forgotten god laughing

Barefoot we made it through
Evolution like a story of all those
Sleeping lands, we created in them
With the will of our intelligence

It is not possible here to reproduce
All the characteristics of the original
Edition of the human journey
Progress is a succession of signs

The courses we adopted were somehow
Emphasized by instinct, like
The yearning to speak or the hope
That if we write about our consciousness

Something of our independent uniqueness
Might separate into others, like how
A poem influences other writers.

I sat up for endless nights, staring into the imaginary mirror of perfection; just trying to get it right.
See, the mirror once struck fear into my inner ear.
I recall being a mess that year.
Looking into something that was so clear, I didn't understand why clarity showed no signs of being near.
Maybe the glass was fogging up from the steam that would leak from the seams of my pores - the doors to the things that I should feel more.
The numbness was an empty vein, but it sent a shock wave to my nerve endings.
It was in this moment, I knew the rest of my life was only pending.
I hated the message I had been sending.
So I backspaced into a new place with a new face.
When I went back to the mirror, the glass broke.
I listened to the sound of the shatter and it reminded me: I am my last hope.
I am the last note in the song you wrote to everyone who's told you "no".
I didn't know I could be so bold. Or maybe I did, but I had only been told.
I am no more than what I allow my soul to feel. I am no more than what I perceive to be real.
So here's the deal:

I won't conceal this passion until I'm in that casket. And even then, you couldn't bury me, when my legacy is my tactic.
But will you listen to my echoing voice? Will they send you the chills that I feel? Will you understand?

I will scatter my soul in all the grains of sand on which you'll stand, contemplating if you should have ever ran...

- L.G.

I draw these letters
Alphabets I was taught
The day draws its images
The night will blow them over
Forever, they are mere words

Writing in the sand
Symbols do not return
They are invisible
For the rest of years
No one will read

Poems left unpublished
No one will read
Novels burnt before
Marketing, but writing
Is my way out, my music

And my bread, the milk
And wine of my loneliness
So what am I to do?
These poems sharpen
My emotions, they love me

Across the night
Where I am but a ghost
In the conjunction of stars
I drew these letters on
A white canvas, they are

More me than anything
Else I have or will own
They know me better
Than the women who come
And go in my life

I will tell them my secrets
Poetry has set fire
To all poems, but I am that
Living fire, I am that warmth
Of a thousand glorious sunsets.

Life,  needed be lived with legacy
For what they may see
Could be dust in the wind

Swept away, with a sheepish grin
Losing identity, too busy fitting in
Self-absorbed in an introverted mind

w a i t i n g, until the day you speak
Releasing thoughts, no tongue and cheek
That'll release you from your ruminating pain

There can be sun, even through the rain
You can make it out,  but one thing remain
There will always be more storms ahead

So get up, when the wind knocks you down
Don't ever settle, since they're always around
Storms will pass, but your life cant afford to

There will be those that do not hear,
Stay quiet, think strong, because they fear
The passion that reins from deep inside your heart

Speak strongly, and feel your inner words
Let them erupt through you, and push yourself forwards
And if you choke, just please remember

A legacy is remembered from the amount of storms you conquered.
Don't give up, pass hope on to those who hunger.
For the words of your experience, that'll build their perseverance

To mount a sail on their boat, so they may bend the winds that carry their legacies.