Sonnet 1

Just as life moves along, We empty our selves as a bucket with a hole. Moving forever onward, Until me reach an emptiness, One that cannot be known by those who are full. The love of another, Just as the fluid in a bucket, Fills us with purpose. Without ones purpose what does one have, But an empty shell moving every onward to a grim end. Let oneself find themselves a friend who like a patch will cover you, Allowing you to fill once more and continue ever onwards. A friend can help you persevere, A trustworthy companion wouldn't forsake a friend.