Today, I’d like to share a poem my grandpa wrote called “Moods of Darkness.” I’ve made no alterations to the original in my transcription, and I’m including a picture of the poem from his poetry book called “Just a Moment.” Enjoy.
My darkness hides a million deeds
Devised by mankind’s schemes.
And then provides a mystic stage
For unpredicted dreams.
I take a tired and careworn face
And rest it for awhile,
To show at dawn, a happy man
Who’s not afraid to smile.
The marvel of a three year old,
Safe and warm and fast asleep,
Is rated high within the stock
Of treasures that are mine to keep.
The initial sound and breath of life
Is often heard in my domain.
My hours have dragged or hurried past
Midst time of hope and fear and pain.
I’ve cursed the frightening hell of war
That burned and crushed my quiet hours.
I hid the sight of mangled men
Who stain, blood red, the grass and flowers.
I’ve been a wild, destructive thing
That any man must fear,
And claimed a soft and gentle life
A mother held most dear.
Once, a shining signal star
Met with me, to show the way
Where with all the hopes and fate of men,
A tiny baby lay.
My time is made of many moods
And strength no man can tell.
Against my well appointed rounds
No mortal can prevail.
The future is a part of me,
The past has felt my might.
I’m part of all that man has known
And he has called me “Night.”
