A poem for the darkness

During a somewhat unsettling power outage a few nights ago, my librarian requested that I go examine an eerie noise emanating from a storage closet. Fortunately the power came back on and the noises stopped before I had to investigate the closet, but nevertheless I found this poem scrawled on a discarded copy of C.S Lewis's 'Mere Christianity'. Why or how the poem got there remains a mystery.

A poem for the Darkness

When darkness curls around your eyes,
when smoky swirls engulf the sun,
when your ancient friends take up reprise;
and you and dread are seamless, one.

When fears are met and formed in flesh,
when the empty darkness whispers back,
and horrifying your fears are meshed,
a consciousness that needs no rest;
will then you admit your hollowness, your desperate needing lack?

When only evils exists to speak,
when monstrosity walks the earth alone,
will you then beg for dawn to break,
to feel and see a God of flesh, of spirit, mind and bone?

If only shadows haunt your heart,
will you ask for a light to spring,
and cherish the fire that fights the dark,
the light that no darkness comprehends;
a simple, holy thing?

For when the light first shone in the black,
the darkness knew and feared,
For the knowing darkness comprehends it not,
And though it struggled, bit and fought,
will be purified, punished, seared.

Fears are but hollow in the sunshine,
voices are silent in the light,
Listen to the One who pours the wine,
and blesses his bread, righteous, divine,
And drives the darkness from your sight.