house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

 Humans claim power and purport to take charge and control the world in whatever way we deem fit. But we remain at the at the mercy of nature’s phenomena; we are unable to prevent earthquakes, volcanoes, typhoons etc. The allegorical forces speak for themselves, they have sufficient power for their ‘whisper’ to be heard, the voice is self-explanatory. Therefore, we are told that it was “always the other way round”, and we are forced to believe it. 
 The pace of this third stanza differs from the long, stretched-out sentence that precedes it. Here, nature makes sharp, admonishing statements. The lines are end-stopped for emphasis. There is no arguing with nature’s assertion of where true power lies.
The Moment