In a galaxy far, far away,
Alien agronomists plotted to sway,
A planet's fate, with nuclear zest,
Creating water, gases, and earthly nest.

With sonic booms, they seeded the ground,
Echoing biblical sounds, all around,
Vegetation burst forth, lush and green,
Overloading the planet, a verdant scene.

Next, they introduced fauna from afar,
Galactic menagerie, a curious star,
Watching what survived, what went extinct,
A cosmic experiment, with life's links.

Then, Homo sapiens, with alien twist,
Engineered to thrive, or so they insisted,
In God's image, or so the tale's spun,
A genetic cocktail, before the day was done.

Fire and tools, the next stage unfolded,
Stolen from heaven, or so the myths are told,
Observing humans, with curious eyes,
As they discovered, adapted, and surprised.

Farming and tech, the next steps in line,
Reproduce, replenish, the cosmic design,
Communication blossomed, a network vast,
The alien farmers watched, as humans forecast.

But then, war and disease, a sinister hand,
Shaping genetics, across the land,
A selective cull, to achieve their aim,
A biblical reminder, of an ancient game.

Seven times, the farm, has been renewed,
Earth's history, disconnected, as we've viewed,
Pyramids stand, from the fifth human sow,
Historians puzzled, with explanations to grow.

The seventh farm, we currently inhabit,
A story woven, with threads to flit,
Between the lines, a hidden truth reveals,
Alien husbandry, through human yields.

So here we toil, in this cosmic field,
Unaware of the farmers, who sow and yield,
Our history, a tapestry, so finely spun,
A tale of human farming, beneath the cosmic sun.

Epilogue: 👇
Now, as we gaze upon the starry sky,
We question our existence, and wonder why,
Are we mere cattle, in a cosmic play?
Or free will agents, in a celestial way?

The cosmic farmers' secrets, remain untold,
But one thing's certain, our story's yet untold,
So let's tend the earth, with care and might,
For in this farm, we're both seed and harvest light.

Coda: 👇
Through cosmic lenses, we gaze upon our past,
A story of farmers, who shaped our cast,
Their methods mysterious, their goals unclear,
We're but characters, in their grand narrative here.

Yet, within our hearts, a spark remains,
A flame of freedom, that refuses to wane,
A beacon calling, to break the mold,
To forge our own path, young and bold.

The cosmic farmers may have sown the seed,
But we hold the power, to cultivate and proceed,
To harvest our destiny, and reap what we've sown,
In this grand cosmic farm, where our story's grown.