The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
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.
At this point nature finds its own  personified  voice, linking cleverly back to the line “and the birds take back their language”. Nature is taking revenge by breaking our illusion of power over the world and its resources.  We have become an  allegorical  ‘visitor’, representing Humankind, a race which thinks it is in control but in reality only lives to see a fraction of earth’s lifetime.
The Moment