The basket

Left to lay in Momma's arms a basket warm and frail. Filled with what treasure was, this basket hit the trail. Feeding all who ventured by with what's contained therein. This basket found he killed his friends with poison from within. Now broken, shattered, burnt, and empty, the basket begged for fill. The basket weaver saw the plight repairing what was ill. And now the basket's overflow mends others ruptured so. Finding power beyond destruction coming from below.