"Are we alone in this universe?" I hear many people ask.
"Why; of course," many reply.
But they cast their eyes above and beyond,
Looking, searching, hoping to find
An answer to their problems, an answer
to their prejudices.
A bond to dissolve.
"We want to talk."
"We want to communicate."
"We want to open our doors to the universe."
We want rockets, satellites, space stations
aeroplanes on Mars,
We want space colonies, international co-operation
Star Wars... so we say...
There's not a care out here, only our junk,
From thirty years of exploration of the outer worlds
And even if we do, in some cosmic future,
manage to make contact
With some alien race on another Earth, a race
Who happen to speak English, or Mandarin,
Would we invite them to visit our beautiful world
that lacks ozone
Where our friendly neighbours point with their ICBM fingers,
itchy on the trigger,
Over some wrong caused to them a thousand years ago
Who'd rather kill you than shake your hand,
but proclaim that they come in peace?
Would we open our doors to these creatures, to let
them see our follies and mistakes
Would we let them criticise us?
Would we let them culture us?
Would they make us their slaves?
What would we say to them, if indeed they understood?
"Welcome to Earth,
we're a superior race,
in need of a quick fix, a holocaust,
to return us to what we should have stayed."