A speaker searches inside themselves for calm and can't find it. The phrase "I've turned all the stones" suggests a thorough, maybe exhausting hunt: they have looked under every rock, checked every hidden corner of themselves, and still come up empty. The odd spacing in "with in me" is worth noticing too, since it splits the word and seems to hold "within" and "me" slightly apart, as if the speaker feels distanced from their own inner life.
The last two lines carry the main image. An "inner light" is lit, which sounds hopeful, but the bulb is gone. The line contradicts itself, and that gap is the heart of the poem: the speaker senses that the means of feeling better should be there, yet something essential is missing. The mood is quiet, tired, and a little wry. There's no dramatic outburst, just a plain, honest admission of feeling stuck, delivered in a few short lines.