I, Barnabas
Midnight--
A hush falls through the melancholy halls of Collinwood
The solemn moon casts dark shadows over the placid
stillness of the old mansion.
I, Barnabas, lie in deep sleep on my bed of purple
velvet.
Asleep--but awake to your thoughts, your feelings,
your desires.
Alone--but cradled by the presence of your mind.
I hear your call, I feel your yearning.
I know that you want me. I know that you need
me.
The oppressiong weight of long lost time
Lies heavily upon me.
The deepening gloom that covers me,
Binds me in my sepulchre.
I hear your call, I feel your yearning.
I must go to you.
I struggle to free the invisible chains that bind
me.
I search in the embalmed darkness for a nebulous
light
That will lead me to you.
I hear your call, I feel your yearning.
I am with you.
©1969 Charles R. Grean
- Home
Poetry Menu E-Mail