The Possibilities

The Possibilities

Are humans the food crop for re-visiting space travelers

Are we the likely harvest seeded long ago by future-thinking interstellar beings

Human flesh, the delicacy that goes well with a bottle of Chianti

Or perhaps, the fine grounds of a watery comet

But what if these beings exist beneath the ground we walk

In the cavernous hollows of planet Earth

Beings huddled as frantic crocodiles awaiting their just desserts

Awaiting prepared meals designed up above by our terrestrial traitors

Perhaps the fishermen of men reside on the ocean floors

Dwelling within camouflaged inter-galactic craft

In and out of water, imitating the routine of the curious turtle

Using fish as bait to bait the unwary ocean traveller

Oh the possibilities

When Mankind has been rendered as the grass-fed sheep

Oh the possibilities

When that about us is outside our realm of probability

Thank you,
Joseph Pede