The Alien streak

The aliens we think are dots on the heavenly bodies far away,

transmuting to their coveted homes if they ever live like humans,

But still their techniques could be pyrotechnic engulfing the winds,

if they blow like solar storms on their planets, like a smoke from chimney,

they cook their wondrous food like a slew of plasma rays if they could,

chew the way we do, nonetheless fire in the skies might indicate,

their cities build for boom in their eternal lives ruled by compact discs,

that are pre-programmed when they are born to rule their destines,

Then sending signals from the earth could detect them in their acts,

and what is for the man a Paradise Lost could be for them regained.

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