Poem: Am I Ever Outside Nature?

Am I Ever Outside Nature?

Am I ever outside nature?  

People say so, but what do they mean?

With reference to the most wild places,

They stock their reasoning with unplanned landscape,

And in this sense, surely I am, predominately, out of nature

And, when understood this way, craving to return.

The wild and earnest, let’s say, has no gardner.

Too little does the industrial man peruse this haven.

But still it’s imprecise to conclude that our titan of industry is outside nature.

For he, despite his willing, is most certainly wild himself,

And a dangerous predator at that.

Provided he intuits mastery,

Provided he institutes slavery,

On land, in the sea, within the avery,

As such, he devours

And exerts his wild will.

But even his prey is wild, even if likewise surrounded by concrete.

You doubt?  Observe him with a microscope.

Observe the jungle within.

Understood accordingly, I am never out of nature,

Whether predator or prey.

For nature, rather, is within me.

And as my stomach grumbles, I shall not forget this,

For it provides me perspective and valuable insight,

Even when the stars are concealed by city light.