Light comes to us unexpectedly and obliquely. Perhaps it amuses the gods to try us. They want to see whether we are asleep.

Tomlinson’s lines treat “light” as insight, grace, or moral clarity—something that does not arrive on command or in a straight, rational beam, but “unexpectedly and obliquely,” through chance encounters, suffering, travel, or sudden perception. The half-mythic suggestion that “the gods” may be testing us frames human life as a vigilance trial: the world offers fleeting illuminations, and what matters is whether we are awake enough—ethically and imaginatively—to notice and respond. The final sentence turns the quote into a quiet admonition against spiritual drowsiness, complacency, and routine, implying that receptivity and attention are prerequisites for whatever meaning or redemption “light” can bring.