What Does It Mean?

Death of Happiness

Darkness sweeps in onto the light lit valley,

a familiar shaped pot sits there, shiny and brassy.

The darkness encased the well made shape in an instant,

and did not leave until all the light was absent.

The shape started to rot in on its self, dying.

From the shapes cracks spilled red water, crying.

The darkness found it's way inside and corroded the shiny metal.

Around the broken shape grew black and thorny bramble.

The golden sun set below the peak of the mountain that day.

For it felt pity and thought the bleeding shape had already paid.

The next day when the golden orb rose,

the fallen shape no longer had it's afterglow.

The shape was battered and beaten and covered in thorns...

All of the valley felt the pain, and mourned.

Again the sun rose to check on it's fallen friend,

hoping that this poor shape would have mend.

But sitting there, in the middle of the valley,

Sat the remains of the broken shape, earthly.

The shape had sunk down far into the skin of the earth.

The sun could no longer see the shape's once bright face filled with mirth.

It was too late for the shape, it's final resting place set.

The valley mourned it's death.

By sleeping, letting more darkness in,

the valley its self grew dim.

And when the bramble and brush finally set in.

A long and thin line broke through the earth's skin.

From that crack in the earth's skin, poured red water, just likes its kin.