Troth Poem by Zyw Zywa

People who get married
already know how it works:
not spontaneously a heaven

of love on earth, but
then what? Is heaven too holy
and too high?

Is love cherishing?
solidified into habits
from time to time

a fountain or the sidecar
from which we see the real
holiness: the pool

of change, the heal-whole pool
of nourishing, devouring, and decay?
Are we loving

if we extend the decay
by nourishing each other
devouring little from each other

and letting each other free
to fail and to grow
from within, by oneself?