My Story

by Steve Heins

My Story

by Steve Heins

1. Life

I am Steve Heins, eighty-one years, a spark in the vast fire of being,

No college degrees to hang on my wall, no parchment to claim my worth,

Yet Columbia whispered, two French courses shy, and I learned from the world’s own book.

I have been a small-town boy, dirt under my nails from golf,

chasing greased pigs through county fairs,

Six times I won, the crowd roaring, the mud my crown, my youth a wild, unbridled song.

I have swung clubs as a scratch golfer, danced on basketball courts, my body a rhythm of motion,

I have drifted, interstate highways my veins, truck stop restaurants my temples, high plains and low my congregation.

Big-city student man, I claimed the neon pulse, skyscrapers my stars,

Yet I wandered, self-indulgent, a distant father, my heart sometimes lost in the haze.

Auto-didact, I stormed Ivy halls, no gatekeeper to bar my way,

Scholar, student, historian, I devoured books, art, music—pages my kin, symphonies my breath.

I have been a poet, words my chisel, carving truth from the stone of days,

A poetry aficionado, lover of verses that sing the soul’s quiet and its storms.

Lost soul, I’ve roamed, yet found my place in the vastness,

Eighty-one years, I stand, a blizzard of one, my life a canvas of collisions, still painting.

2. Career

I am a business writer, economist, my pen a torch in the dark of markets,

Researcher, communicator, I weave stories for the weary, the hopeful, the seeking.

Wall Street knew me, mutual fund director, shaping wealth’s pulse,

I spoke to traders, to dreamers, my words a bridge between chaos and clarity.

I am the Blizzard of One, storming broadband’s gates, defying Goliath’s shadow,

Internet Open Access my banner, freedom my cry, a digital dawn for every voice.

Practical environmentalist, I named myself, no dogma to chain my sight,

Energy efficiency my craft, lighting the world with a realist’s spark.

Chicago Climate Exchange, I was there, building markets for carbon’s weight,

Paris, I stood in its ancient halls, speaking to the EU’s schemers, my vision for emissions a map.

Lobbyist, I walked fifty states, D.C.’s marble my battleground,

For energy efficiency, for natural gas, for nuclear’s hum,

I fought, my voice a gadfly’s sting.

Technology theorist, I dreamed in clouds, saw the future in circuits and code,

Bakken Basin, I spoke, The Weekly Word my stage, Professor Heins my name.

With experts—geologists, physicists, skeptics—they joined me, their truths a chorus,

We broke the noise, our podcast a fire, burning for sane energy, for human thriving.

ESG I weigh, fair and balanced, my skeptic’s eye unfooled by greenwashed hymns,

Political organizer, pain in the ass, I stir the pot, I wake the sleeping.

Tens of thousand articles, my ink and my friends a river, The Word Merchant’s flood across nations,

Curator, I gather truths, feeding allies—scientists, journalists—with light against the dark.

Self-financed, unbowed, at eighty-one, I am the storm that never quiets,

Sane energy my job, my cause, my heart’s unyielding vow.

This is my confession, my map, my open book,

Steve Heins, poet, fighter, a life of words and wars, still singing.