Dinosaur

I am confused
with the many of my kind
with all the names of my kind,
linked and lumped together
chiefly for being frighteningly large.
We lived with fire, water and air.
The green of the earth 
was at our disposal.
The blue expanse of sky
smiled upon us.
Hills and valleys
were our portals and hallways.
Thunderstorms washed over us 
as showers.
When the moon settled 
in its night place
we lowered our necks,
and slept in water beds.
The ground trembled on our waking,
the very forests parting
at our advance.

There were no humans
to record our birth and death.
We are a mere piece 
of your endless puzzle now.
You plunder our gravepits
and exhume us in shreds and shards.
You paste us together 
from length to breadth,
and remake us 
as gaping spectacles  
of wonder and awe.
We fascinate 
because we were huge and great,
and because, 
after our infinite reign,
we were only finite.

Gaetana Cannavo's Questions:

Is the poem too cynical?

Is the point clear?

Is it overdone (wordy)?