What else in life is there that’s real?

or never forget to hug an alien

What are we doing with our world, loves? When aliens come, what will they see… just distraction, mis-action, below and above in the things we rue, or do, or try to be? Are we proud of our anger, mistrust and war and how little we try sometimes to be more?

It’s not just you, it’s me, yes, all of us stuck in our heads, all mis-led, all awry, seeing, not seeing, judgmental, unjust, not questioning, often selfish. And why? The path of least resistance creates distance not love …. and makes an often-harsh existence.

Can our visitors see though all our mess, |contemplating our ways with sympathy, recognizing, realizing, not thinking less of such misguided ways, trapped in our infancy? Inside us is something that’s better, loves, not always the hawk, yes, let’s be the dove.

So if they come to me, what can I show, just myself… young and foolish that I be? I’ve accomplished so little, yes, I know, and never seem to be better than me. Are hopes and dreams, unfledged and rough, enough truth, the bare proof, that we’re enough?

If but only one thing of us they’d know, I think there’s one aspect they’d want to see. I would bring just my open heart to show, an example of how we aspire to be. I’d give a hug, tell a joke, and say how I feel, for what else in life is there that’s real?

Originally published at https://vocal.media, September 2023.

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