By Alfred Lehmberg <>

I've said, "it ALL comes down to you," how YOU perceive YOUR stars. As tiny points of distant light, or *them* more near than far? It's what YOU think that matters as you make your feelings known. Would you accept your lot in life believing you're alone? Alone in all the cosmos? Alone to contemplate? Alone to go unwitnessed as you seek some pointless fate? Alone in sad indifference? Alone to count your beads, alone to be . . . oh, good or bad -- or something in between. Alone to count your blessings? Alone to feel cursed? Alone to be respected, glad, or disrespected -- hurt? Alone in satisfaction, or alone to be without? Alone in suffered silence, or alone to scream and shout?
Alone in stunning vastness we would BE anomaly. We would be mere freaks of nature in some grand futility. Alone in matchless time our candle sputters in a wind we shall not know the source of, though we make believe -- pretend. Alone we have no measure. Alone we make no sense. Alone we are a bubble set to pop in sad pretence. Alone we've no authority. Alone we come up short. Alone, there is temptation to believe our own reports. Alone we have no reason to behave as would be best. Alone's the lower standard, so we fail every test. Alone, it's like we have no point. Alone, we are forlorn. Alone, we are as good as dead. Alone, we're truth suborned.
It just won't make a shred of sense, pretending we're alone. It staggers ones credulity if that's what you propose. Life would seem to find its way; that's what it does on Earth. It's found in fiery fumaroles, or upon some snowy perch. It somehow lives through ANY strife, be it asteroid or ice. It finds its way, and it survives by paying ANY price. Given all its grand success, right here on planet Earth, I've reasoned that it's just no stretch that, elsewhere (?), we've no dearth.
Life, if NOT space faring, is as thick as fleas on dogs, vermin gassed beyond indifference by their errant *human* gods. Life has found a way, it seems, through all the sturm and drang, and will have sensed, at last, the sky -- beyond, the song it sang. Time is just so damned immense, and bigger every DAY is the space that would enclose it -- all the eggheads write and say. I find it too damned reasonable, when I understand its depth -- that if, in fact, we ARE alone, we'll die a slow-rot death.
I've said it before, I know, but even if we WERE alone (and with certainty given the historical, anecdotal, physical, and photographic evidence), it would make much more sense to conduct our affairs as IF we were NOT alone.
We'd treat each other better. There would be more open toleration and cooperation. We'd SEED the asteroid belt, and make it a living ring around its star. The Earth becomes a respected garden. Mars, and perhaps a few moons of Jupiter and Saturn support an efficacious humankind. We'd be happier.
Restore John Ford.
~~Ö~~ EXPLORE Alfred Lehmberg's Alien View" at his Fortunecity URL. **<Updated 22 December**
"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, burned at the fundamentalist's stake.


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