Home poem, please rate.

[Tulippaw]

I had an epic moment.

These are the winds who,
When frusterated,
Tear down trees and make homes for the small animals.

These are the mountains who stand tall and proud,
Over everything else,
And who have been here since before the age of the sun,
When there was no light on Earth.

These are the trees,
Who have more knowing than everything else,
And have a better view of the world,
Yet say little.

This is the grass,
Who was here,
And will be here,
Long after we began,
And have seen many different animals walk among it.

These are the storms,
Who, angry, rip paths through the trees,
To let the sunlight in,
And the plants grow.

This is the fire that destroys everything,
yet starts everything again.

These are the forests,
The mountains,
The plains,
Who work together to create the land we call our own.
Yet it is not our own.
It belongs to every living thing that walks among those trees,
And on those mountains,
And in that grass.

This is my home,
Come in.

The spacing might be a bit off, because I didn't write it with lines at first. Like it?