Dear Gliese 667Cd,
A letter to our extrasolar friend
Circle around, the solar system afar. Your sun shines loud in your eyes in the morning of stars. You are the dream farther than Mars. Why do we consume ourselves with you, a habitable neighbor only a few light-years away, or so the scientists say.
I heard you had a big sun, Gliese 667C, you look up to it and find within it the comfort of knowing it can count you as one of it’s own. Your siblings, Gliese 667Cb, Gliese 667Ch, Gliese 667Cc, Gliese 667Cf, and Gliese 667Cf. It’s not easy being one of six, but I think we all have great plans for you, after all, you are only 22 light-years away, by the time this thought reaches you, it will be your past and I will be long dead. Even me looking towards you is a mirror in to the future past of exporation, the light particles that you emit are only a memory of what you were when I saw you, so far away, only an idea of something that we wanted to believe in.
We want to believe in the continuity of something, of our everlasting existence into the heavens and beyond. But even looking at the stars means that we are looking into the proof of death, every lightbeam that comes from the eternal blackness is older than anything that ever lived on earth.
But don’t let my fleshy mopiness get you down, Gliese 667Cd, you have a long life ahead of you, your red-white glow tells us a lot about ourselves, we want to find us, fleshy, fluffy human-like things or a rock that will allow us to be there, but you know what those hippies say, “Wherever you are, there you are.” That means that we will just bring our shit with us, Gliese 667Cd, you might have to deal with all our shit soon, or at least until we figure out how to traverse the 22 light years between our rock and you.