Wedding Spring

Wedding Spring

Go now, together, with lives tied,
newborn curates of the long road;
lover cleaved from lovers; laughing
ancient self-slaughter shaped to the shared
flame of a twisted, braided wick.

Kindle no anger overnight;
together sacrifice pride to love.
Into one house, account, accord,
one word pour all your work—make your
tongue speak now only of life: love.

And when the necessary trials
burn your life’s elliptic rings
upon your fingers, don’t fall into
yourselves but fall into each other;
alone now always means together.

Forget your fights from the final word;
forgotten years will rise before
faults will wear themselves away
and sooner will unsought conversion
come than love to adamant hearts.

To years—to springtimes, summers, autumns,
winters—to all those spinning seasons
ending where you have here begun:
love; to love’s perfect knowledge; to love
reborn each morning you are one.

Go, newborn lover, ancient flame:
kindle together into one tongue
and burn upon yourselves, alone;
forget forgotten faults; and come
to winter’s ending: love reborn.