minding that inner light So that it may let him walk without stumbling

'Many a Holy Man'

Took a turn whispering in his ear
In some quiet hour of the night,
Telling him how much happier
He'd be if he were to desire nothing,

Urging him to stop dwelling
On the many ups and downs in his life—
Some of them still fresh in his mind—
That brought him to this sorry state,

And make peace with everything
That can't be changed,
Understood, or ever properly resolved—
Like God and one's fate,

And to devote his remaining days
To minding that inner light
So that it may let him walk without stumbling
As little by little night overtakes him.

[Charles Simic {1938- }, from Scribbled in the Dark]