Does my poem have a sense of not wanting to be outdone (please critique)?

Woods fly in darkness spreads and birds ease their wiles,

Sparse the land as dusk does spawn, keep the simple styles,

Lifting sun and moon between and many a noise does spark,

A single breath of clouded sky, the scene does show its mark.

Around the sea and in the depth, a shadow crawls silently,

Eyes are wide and rounded squares, not so intently,

Shifting sands and dust aloft sparring with the rocks,

Lapping waves of raging sides sets the rigid locks.

Mounds deplete the gentle roll, slaying the folding tide,

Stars are brisk and piercing, calling for a gentle ride,

Enlightened smiles of harmony bearing the sailing leaves,

East is West and North is South, neither have their grieves.

6th June 2011