Virus is a succinct and pointed ecological critique, shaped through the lens of spiritual and psychological awareness. In just a few tight stanzas, the poet delivers a stark reflection on the destructive imbalance of modern civilisation—identifying the unchecked human ego, particularly in its outwardly assertive, yang-dominant expression, as both cause and symptom of global disconnection.

The poem opens with a bold declaration: “The ego of the world / Is yang, outward, assertive energy.” This framing immediately sets the tone for the piece’s thematic concerns—masculinised systems of control, expansion, and domination, particularly those manifest in “Politics and commerce,” are positioned as not merely cultural phenomena, but existential threats to life itself. The implication is clear: this overemphasis on assertion, acquisition, and linear progress has come at a direct cost to “Her survival”—a reference to the Earth, subtly gendered and spiritually personified, as in earlier works.

Structurally, the poem is composed of short, measured lines, delivered in an unadorned and declarative style. The absence of complex imagery or ornamentation gives the piece an immediacy that suits its urgency. The shift in focus from the planetary (“all life at all, ever gain to be”) to the present moment—“But what about now? / This present moment”—anchors the philosophical in the personal. The poet redirects attention to the quality of lived experience in the “now,” suggesting that the ongoing crisis is not only ecological but existential.

A central tension runs through the poem between ego and higher self. The ego is portrayed as “Working alone by itself / Without listening,” described as unaware—even dismissive—of the higher self’s existence. This disconnection is not merely an internal psychological split but one that is projected “across the globe / And into space,” implying that the macro-scale crises of climate, culture, and geopolitics are, at root, spiritual in nature. The imagery of projection is key here: it suggests that what is unresolved or unintegrated within the individual psyche becomes writ large across the collective experience.

The final turn—naming the human race itself as “This virus”—is stark and deliberately provocative. It reframes humanity not as the apex of creation, but as a disruptive force, parasitic in nature, operating in ignorance of its own interdependence with the living Earth. Unlike many ecological poems that mourn or plead, Virus indicts. Its tone is unflinching, offering no soft resolution, but rather a distilled truth about the shadow of unbridled ego when left untempered by consciousness or reverence.

Despite its brevity, the poem resonates with layered meaning. It draws upon spiritual dualism (ego vs higher self), ecological urgency, and sociopolitical critique, all within a minimal framework. The result is a powerful, almost aphoristic reflection on the condition of humanity at a turning point—an unvarnished mirror held up to collective behaviour, asking not for guilt, but for awakening.

In summary, Virus is a sharply crafted, uncompromising poem that distils complex critiques of modernity, ego-consciousness, and ecological neglect into a brief but potent reflection. Its strength lies in its economy of language and clarity of voice, offering not consolation, but confrontation—with ourselves.

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Man by Steve Cutts