Charlz dela Cruz

“All the world’s a stage”
And if you wear
The same old mask
For too long
You might forget
Who you are.

“All the world’s a stage” – from As You Like It by William Shakespeare

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Espiritus (and other poems) is a chapbook of poems  from the Otherworld the Neverland   to the Moon  and Stars.

Every night, her soul leaves her body
and dances with the devil
They hang on a string of moonlight
and sway to a silent rhythm

He loves her
sometimes she loves him too
Nonetheless, they always dance the night away
and hold each other as if they were dissolving

Someday, surely she will dissolve into ashes and stardusts
and he will have to dance alone
His hands will miss her hands
and his feet will search for her feet

But tonight is unlike any other night
They do not just float, kiss, and bend
for they shall dance to the edge of the world
Never to return.

She wanted to eat the Moon
That is impossible I said the Moon is too big
Do not be hilarious she laughed
and held a coin up to the Moon
It is even smaller than this coin
I will eat it like an almond
Moments later, I heard that she rode a Lemurian crystal orb
and flew to the Moon

Next evening, I saw the crescent Moon
and realized that she was probably living her dream
of eating —
eating the Moon
Worried that no Moon might be left for humanity
I rented a helicopter and flew high up into space

I found her, sitting on the Moon
as if thinking of the right way to bite it
How are you? I asked
Come and sit beside me she smiled
I do not think I still want to eat the Moon she said
That is strange, why not? I asked
From here, everything looks more beautiful she answered
The Earth looks like a dream as it should be
And if I eat the Moon, we would not have this place to sit together

She reached for a star and plucked it
I can have this instead
Would you like some? she asked
No, thank you I replied
She whispered a wish into …

Fleshed out in flames, my hands
find your body
in every direction
I tiptoe to the stars
and meet your timeless eyes
Your back arches
like a naked mountain
catching the rain
You are water
with a body of fire, fingers of wind
your earthen mouth full of summer
Trapped under the tresses
of your hair
I look at you
as one looks at the moon
Whole star, whole dream
And the heart of the sky beats
with echoes of your name.

She is burning in beauty
yet she is not aware of it
Not aware that the whole world
is burning with her
Burning from her lips, burning
To her fingertips, to the trees
and the grass, burning
to my longing arms

It is I who see her burning
yet I who feel it
with every move

My eyes are red, my heart
swells, burning
each time the wind strokes
her hair,
burning.

Over there, through the valleys, on top of a mountain
there is a bean, a magical bean
It is hidden in a garden
that no one today has seen

It is guarded by a troll
who lives underneath a tree
If you can find the garden
then it is the troll that you will see

But every night, at 1 am, when the troll goes to sleep
is the perfect time to sneak into the garden and steal the magical bean
It is between the troll and the white sheep
Just be careful not to wake the troll from his sleep
They say that if you eat the magical bean
then you can wish for anything
So one day a boy goes into the garden
eats the magical bean, and makes a wish for a golden ring

The troll wakes up and eats the boy
and places another bean
between him and the white sheep
Because trolls never sleep.

There was a green elf
playing his pipe
on top of a tree
When beautiful Mathilde
walked towards me
And then Mathilde, o sweet Mathilde, kissed me

A rose bloomed up to her knee
so I plucked it out
and gave it to her
and Mathilde loved me
The next day was as young as dawn
when I woke with Mathilde
lying next to me
I waited for inches and hours
for her to open her eyes
so I could kiss them and kiss them
Home of my soul, envy of the stars
But Mathilde did not wake that day
nor the next
So I went to the tree
where she first kissed me
And I asked the green elf
I said, "Mr. Elf, what should I do?
My Mathilde does not wake up to me."
"O, that is easy" Mr. Elf answered"Just kiss her on the lips
But if it does not work
come back to me."
And so I rushed to my Mathilde
and hurried like wind to kiss her on the lips
I blushed upon seeing her, thinking
"What beauty, what art"
And then I kissed her, slowly
passionately, wearing my heart on my lips
And then I yelled and cried
For her lips were co…

I watch as your fingers play with sunsets and sunrises
Indeed, time cannot tame a beauty that is already in fire
Naked as the earth, naked as you are
Taunting the skies, your soul spills out of your body

How can anyone love you without form or pride?
How can I not think that you are made of dreams?
Day by day, I tip my hat, with my heart inside
to grace your stars — even the trees bow down with me


In haste, I scatter petals of roses to herald your every arrival
And as you open and close the door
of my life, which is a shadow of your steps
I stitch this love to the silver of the moon

For love is nothing like the dissolving universe
It changes as you move yet remains the same
Like this poem searching for meaning, a verse
with all the words, stained with your name.

Thank You for the gift of writing, which is a gift of sharing — the mark of humanity. Thank You for the words that I do not understand, yet find their meaning in another person's soul. My lines are nothing but prayers tossed into the multiverse. They do not desire salvation, but only confess Your name.
Life is a story written on the wind, waters, fire, and mountains of the Earth. Amidst all chaos and hate, there is a faithless pilgrim in every heart who prays endlessly, relying on love and miracles.
Yet all these are words — meaningless words — starving and homeless until a soul receives them. Not to be understood, but only to be felt. This is how beauty is created, how life is created. It takes a leap of madness, courage, kindness, a bit of magic and folly. Because words are dreams floundering in the void of Your imagination.
As words float on the paper and tinker with my mind, a new paradise opens itself. It is on the paper where the realms of heaven and hell are created. It is als…