Fermi Paradox

The bottom of the cosmos
Spreads a sumptuous, sparkling bed

Over which the darker things
Glide as shadows, foraging.

Reefs of cloudy galaxies
Sprawl, seeded with spiky stars,

And around those spikes, billions
Of planetary systems

Spin in tumbling formations.
Some of the spheres are perfect

For eating, but they’re tiny.
Shadows filter hordes of them

In constant swallows, sifting
For the glinting percentage

Of edible ones. A few
Specialists among giants,

The sleeker, smaller shadows
Have mastered pinpoint hunting.

They can spot an edible
World in their vicinity

The moment it starts pinging,
Just breaking open its shell.

They twist their sinuous lengths
To snap it up for a bite.

Look, there’s a new planet now,
Just bristling with satellites.

Oop, and it’s gone. That was quick.
Hardly had begun to click.