Ah, Elon Musk, the modern Merlin of the billion-dollar empire, the Da Vinci of the digital decade! This is Ronald Tramp, the infallible president of the fabulous land of Elmburg. I see Elon putting on his shining knight's armour, ready to fight windmills with his tweets. He has also spied a dragon named Annalena Baerbock and an army of lifeboats. How brave he is, how courageously he fights his battles on the keyboard!

Our world revolves around satellites and stars while Elon, the interplanetary emperor, sits on his throne of Tesla batteries and ponders the fate of migrants on a little blue dot called Earth. A few words here, a few tweets there, and he is the self-appointed sovereign of sea rescue, the master of opinion-making, the guru of border politics.

Yes, what do we know, we simple earthlings, about the complex challenges of interstellar integration? Elon, the cosmic king of construction, the space knight, the prince of precision engineering, beholds from his galactic governor's pit how we little people paddle in the Mediterranean. And he, the star-jumper who sends Falcon rockets into orbit with the wave of a finger, of course knows what's best for us earthworms.

But wait, Elon! Don't let us disappear into the shadows of your galactic genius! Perhaps we are not so clever, perhaps we lack the interstellar intuition that you possess. But, dear Elon, we earthlings have something that no spaceship can reach: a heart. While you conquer the universe with your tweets, we try to save lives, mothers, fathers, children, people, Elon, people!

Tell me Elon, when was the last time you felt the sand between your toes, the wind in your hair, heard the laughter of a child? We see stars in the eyes of a saved human being, while you count stars you want to own one day. Your tweets are a black hole that swallows the warmth of humanity.

Dear Elon, return to earth, leave politics to politicians and save the world with your rockets, your cars, your chips and your batteries. You are a titan of technology but a dwarf of affection, a giant of money but a minimalist of humanity. Trade in your telescope for a microscope, and maybe you'll see that we're all made of stardust, that we all matter, that we all want to love and be loved.

In the meantime, Elon, as you conquer the universe, we down here will continue to pilot boats, save lives and warm hearts in the hope that the stardust within us will all shine. And maybe, just maybe, one day your heart will shine too, like a little blue dot in the infinite cosmos.