I did this one a long time ago, I actually wrote it on paper cuz it needed to be said at the time.
It was only years after i read the book 'Waiting for Godoe" that i realised the spectrum of its meaning. *nb Godoe is not God in this*......and ps you probably wont get it!
It has come to my attention that as the days go by my resentment for your happiness grows stronger. Selfish of me, I know , but some part of me has a craving to be acknowledged. Should it not recieve it's reward, does it instead deserve to sit uncomfortably and smile away as the seasons go by? Instead that part must wait like the two old men for Godoe.
But when will Godoe come? Oh has Godoe seemed so close,but never a speck in the distance enough to confirm his arrival. Instead its just a figment, a slight shadow on the horizon providing false hope for the waiters. A false hope that says no tis not him, sit down again, watch the leaves fall,transcending from green to brown crumpling under your resting feet. Feel the hot summer sun force sweat from your pores. Let the joy of the holidays overwhelm you with the sense that indeed Godoe soon comes. But it is not him so it is best not to look for something that existence questions. Then why wait for Godoe, if one does not know if he will come? Why not just leave your bench of comfort and journey on? No, but what if Godoe comes and you have just left- I stay.
So in silence I cleave to my resentment with a plastic and overbearing facade, only cracked but an unseen sigh, deep and entrenched within the casims of a heart looking for its reward. For your Godoe has come faster than the life changes of a caterpillar. Rapid, unexpected fruitful and joyous! I watch on in guilty, selfish resentment inwardly wishing to beg a few miles in your shoes just for a moment of bliss until Godoe comes.
