He strides upon the earth
As if its every speck were his
To hold, to specify a worth,
And build what his desire is.
Each step eats up a mile.
He wades across the ocean wide
And delves beneath the mountains, while
His passing makes all creatures hide
And hope for other days.
There was a time when he was small,
When greater herds could safely graze,
Before he stood so proud and tall.
With every footprint, forests fall.
Swung arms propel warm gusts of air
And whip up hurricanes for all
The mangroves on the coast. The glare
Of sun upon his eye
Reflects, refocuses, and burns
The valleys into deserts dry.
Transformed, the silent world turns
And wonders if his mind can learn
What consequences wait and rise
To make land boil and liquid churn
Before life’s vanished cries.
One interesting aspect of poetry - good poetry, at least - is that it can have multiple meanings, being full of metaphors that suggest different things. I don't necessarily consider what I write to be in a category on par with really good poetry, perhaps in part because I often have a single meaning in mind. In this one, for example, my thoughts were focused on the environmental degradation caused by humanity, and wondering whether we will learn and be able to change. But maybe there are other meanings that could be found, as well. That's another fun thing about poetry - sometimes a reader can identify ideas that the author may not have considered or intended.