The last six months have been fraught with disturbing images, and uneasiness at where existence is heading. I wanted to write about things that have been weighing heavily on my heart. The cliches in this little parable are intentional and so is the humour and they're to offset the real writing which is the poem at the end. This is a general piece of writing and not intended to pinpoint any particular situation, person or region. The world, at least the Scientific One, seethes with excitement. The first, manned deep-space probe is to be launched to fathom the dark vacuum, the mystery of deep space. The Spaceman has a fine background, a good academic record, an analytical mind, and is not married; he can be relied on in crises. He knows he is suited for the Mission, in more ways than one. The take-off goes as per schedule; space technology reached its zenith in hardware and programming. The space-probe disappears rapidly into the beckoning blue sky, as if in answer to its summons. After a long voyage spent in suspended animation, the Spaceman, in his high-tech probe, lands on a distant, uncharted planet; his mission: to search for life, to search for Aliens. To his astonishment, he comes upon signs of a large existing civilization. An excited message flies back to Earth, "Mission successful! Alien life exists!" He then prepares to meet and communicate with the Aliens. Meanwhile, another message rapidly spreads through vast, underground tunnels inhabited by strange, green creatures with tentacles and four eyes, who breathe ammonia, not oxygen, "An Alien has landed!" Contact...is made, but the Spaceman soon realizes that things are not as simple as they seemed to be, a point rather sharply made by a thorny situation which arises. Each life-form considers the other to be the Alien; a violent argument ensues further complicated by the electronic translator, as to Who or What the other actually is. Each has contempt for the fact that the other's respiratory gases are the waste products of the one's metabolism; each decides that communication is absolutely impossible. The Earthling feels that the Green Beings need to be Civilized, and Organized, and taught to breathe oxygen; the Green Beings think that the Earthling is just full of Hot Air, and must be off its appendages to live on the Open Surface and travel around in smelly, metal canisters. One insult leads to another, until finally War is declared. Many years pass. Now both worlds lie, Cold, desolate ruins, And the few who scrabble, With impotent futility, Whether under or over ground, Do not know And do not care Who won Or lost The Great War. Thank you for reading! Your comments are always helpful. Best wishes, hanevi.