I'm in a sonneting mood

Had a chance to write a sonnet, and this one happened pretty easily.

skyrockets in flight

A single rocket rising in the black,
nearly unseen against the ebon sky --
arising, waiting, silent to the crack
of its ignition when its flight shall die
in brilliant conflagration, moments when
its splendor fills our eyes with spectral flame,
their light fulfilling what the careful men
who made it did intend. Is it the same
when I have reached my pinnacle, as my
intention nears fruition, my brief
ascension to transcendence signify-
ing why my love was launched?  If disbelief
is one emotion, then I feel it now --
amazed at what her passion will allow.