Our speaker's a pretty curious guy. (And we'll just call him a "guy" here for convenience's sake, since we never really get any bio on him.) He's got questions and, you know, that's understandable. Who doesn't go through life without asking a few questions now and again, right? (There, we just asked one ourselves.)
At the same time, these aren't your ordinary questions. Plus, this speaker seems to be out for answers. He starts off by demanding "Tell me" (1), addressing us directly with a command. Right off the bat, we know that this is no idle speculation. He's looking for a response from us, so we'd better listen up.
Of course, the questions he puts to us are harder to answer than maybe he realizes. Or does he? After all, it seems that all four questions in this poem lead us down a rabbit hole of reflection, speculation, and yes—more questions. So, does he really want us to write down our answers on a 3 by 5 postcard and send them to him with a self-addressed, stamped envelope? Or is he just trying to get us to, you know, think.
Like any good question-asker, our speaker never tips his hand here. At the same time, we're gonna go with our second theory. This guy's no quiz show host. Instead, we think of these questions—all of which imagine the world in ways very different from our daily experience—more like invitations. Any question is an opportunity, when you think about it. It's a chance to find out what you know, to reflect on your understanding of the world around you (even if it's something as simple as "What did we have for lunch yesterday?").