Thrown stones shatter mirror-lakes
scatter skies to seismic quakes:

reflections of our disregard
to damage, disarrange, discard
where timeless paragons survived

until we raided and contrived

polluting where the pure once flowed
without concern what could corrode
those meadows, streams, this open air
the creatures, trees, and all that's fair.

When waters still
and tremors rest
in atmospheres no more possessed
and hurtled stones erode to dust

have we balanced?
Did we bust?