It won t be forever

It rained all night, and the sky is still grey.
It's heavy and dark, and the rain may endeavour
to pour or to drizzle throughout all day,
but this doesn't matter. It won't be forever,
for sooner or later it goes away.
It won't be forever.

The walls in the garden are glistening, sombre.
The grass and the plants satisfied their thirst.
Yet, all that I want is to rest and to slumber
today, in the sounds of rain immersed,
which greet in this way the beginning of summer.
It won't be forever.

It won't be forever. A deep consolation
is hidden in this unpretentious phrase.
This time is needed for poems' gestation,
perhaps, like the nature's prerequisite phase
before any flowers' bloom celebration.
It won't be forever.

Tree's foliage moves, by the elements swayed.
The rain restarts with a mighty force.
The branches are bending as if they're praying
to stop such a blast, but they know, of course:
storm's powers are not forever displayed.
It won't be forever.

It won't be forever, like pain and tears.
If won't be forever, for nothing does last.
All our troubled and wonderful years
fill soon the receptacle of our past,
which clears all previous pleasures and fears.
It won't be forever.

It won't be forever - all delights and sorrows.
The life itself is as frail as a seed,
which strength from the earth and God's power borrows
until it is withered and gone, as, indeed,
it has no power over tomorrow.
It won't be forever.

No, nothing on Earth can remain enduring.
But if we could only make the choice
for Truth, our home in the Heavens securing
by listening to the Almighty 's voice -
the voice of Love, to this day reassuring:
It will be forever.

8.06.2019