Anybody There?

We are biologic automata
With nary a god to help us out
In avoidance of traumata
By way of repeating pulpit shout
In all its traditional mimicry
Of radio signals sent to space
With the telemetric gimmickry
Manufactured by the human race.
The parallels are plain to see
Betwixt antennae and all steeples
And though they often disagree
Both search the sky for alien peoples,
Who, it's safe to say, in either case,
Seem to prefer us in our place!