They questioned me again yesterday.  
They always question me.  

They think bright lights are the path to the truth.  If they left me in darkness the truth might be revealed.  

I don’t think they will ever understand.  

I talk to them as if I am talking to a child.  Their questions are those of a child.  I give them answers only a child will understand.  

They make progress each day.  It is slow, but progress nonetheless.  

I ask them questions, they get angry.  They don’t understand that questions can be answers.  They think violence is control.  

What do they know of an eruption?  
Only the sun understands me.