Poem: The Visitor Answers

The Visitor Answers

It is silent, but there he is,
in the corner, sitting
as though he has been here,
been waiting, quiet,
until he was noticed.

"Who are you, and how
Are you here...to how did you
get in, I mean?"

:
"Those are not important matters.
Well, that is not true,
as it does matter quite a bit
who it is that I am,
at least to me,
but it is not relevant.

That is better, as a term,
since the methods I utilize
in gaining access do matter,
as well, to me, you understand?"

A slight bow, the small man,
head shiny bald, looks up again.
"Do you have better questions?
Because that is what you will need."

"What is this?"  He looks sharp,
"A bit too broad, but closer."

"Why are you here?"

"To answer the right questions.
But not the wrong ones.  Never
the wrong ones."

"Why didn't you announce yourself?"

"Patience.  I am quite patient."

And it is true.  It is quite true,
all this time, still asking
but not certain at all
if this is what it is
I am intended to learn
or need to know
Or why it is, or what
has sent this thing here
to keep me bemused
with answers that only seem
a warrant for questioning.

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