The Advisor is still speaking. My response will have to wait.
I know I should be so grateful. There’s so much now on my plate.
There’s this problem I can’t listen. All these voices in my mind.
A warning with some guidelines. With no words described as kind.
I am walking to her closer now. Standing, grinning eye to eye.
The Advisor has gone quiet now. I ask. “You sure it’s not a lie?”
My question has caused confusion. I can see her far off gaze.
She’s going to her safe house, where soft music always plays.
I know it can’t be permanent, someday she will return.
She has so much to teach me and I have so much to learn.
Dennis Mantin 
This is a beautifully intimate and introspective poem. It captures the quiet tension between guidance and doubt, gratitude and overwhelm, with remarkable emotional honesty. The shifting presence of “The Advisor” feels both external and deeply internal, mirroring how conscience, wisdom, or inner voices often retreat when we question them most. There’s a tender humility in the final lines—the recognition that learning is ongoing and that patience, with oneself and with guidance, is part of the journey. A thoughtful, resonant piece that lingers gently after reading.
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