Maybe it's that the aliens don't believe in us

Find me in a gallery, where, written in glittered glue, jokes of the universe spin on notebook paper. Be at one with the time, the now, when you see it, and right now. The days themselves can’t wait to end. A gentle cough from the galaxy will let us see the stars again. The One in everyone will see itself once more. The laugh will sound new, but only because it was too old to remember.