Food for Thought

Any aliens we speak to will probably think of us like we think of bacteria. Stephen Hawking

Why send happy signals into space?

The ones who hear perhaps are
avaricious, merciless.

How foolishly we seek the stars,
eyes clouded by our deep desire,
how blindly wrong, assuming
as we do, a cosmic turn
toward something good.

Oh, look around -- though flowers
may come closest to an easy life,
some sun and rain, a little soil,
and voila, blooming for a day.
But animals? Catastrophe.
A weak design, the urgent search
for sustenance most hours --

Food!
Where's food?
Where's food?

The fallacy of seeking
comfort outside earth:
no reason to assume
these other beings grew
from different means --

Here, let me feed 
you, feed...

Will we be food?