Limerence (Poem-19)

Here is a sonnet:

A witch? No, for the spell is too kind;
She knows me not, yet of her I've heard
If a mirage is she - a nomad is my mind,
If she's the blue, limitless sky, I am but a bird.

Like the Sun, warmth engulfs me through her gaze,
Like the Moon on a winter night, she unseats my bearing;
While in her presence, the rest is all a haze,
Of all the troubles in the world, I'm uncaring.

Until now, captive to her flame,
The moth in my heart dares to grow wise;
Overwrought, howsoever true, it must be tamed
For though snow shines brighter in the Sun, it shortly dies.

And so, I move forth, my desire seems to have burned; 
But I hear her sweet voice call my name, and forget all I've learned. 

- Armaan Kothare

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Thanks for reading my attempt at writing a Shakespearan sonnet!