Am I Good Enough for You?

galatea_and_polyphemus_by_thesecondbus_d7y0cde-fullview-1

Myth says that once upon a time, even before the birth of time itself, the Cyclopes Polyphemus saw Galatea, the nymph and fell in love with her.

He was large and ugly, while she was a perfect beauty. No matter how much he loved Galatea and no matter what he sacrificed for her, she did not accept his love. Finally, doomed and cursed, Polyphemus threw rocks at Galatea and her lover. As a punishment, he was transformed into a river and flowed amongst the wild mountains, alone and miserable forever. This is the final dialogue between the miserable and desperate Polyphemus and the idealistic Galatea.

 

‘Am I good enough for you?’

he asks with a shadow of doubt,

lining his single dark eye

‘No, I am afraid not…’

she smiles at him coldly,

untouched by his bitter misery

‘No matter, how hard you try,

you scream or you cry

No matter how long you try,

you bleed and you die

You’ll never be

good enough for me

No matter, how high you fly,

kiss the earth or reach the sky

No matter how may you pry,

you may shout or you may sigh

You’ll never be

good enough for me’

 

‘But what if I change?’

he pleads with eyes filled with

all the sadness in the world

‘No, still a big fat no’

she replies adamantly,

resolve gleaming in her blue eyes

‘Even if you change,

or you may evolve

Even if you become godly

and God himself absolves

You’ll never be

good enough for me

Even if you explode,

or you may dissolve

Even if you become static

or you may even revolve

You’ll never be

good enough for me’

 

‘And why is that so?’

looking down he asks,

dejection underlining his whisper

‘Well that’s a good question’

she looks at him with pity,

a silent rage simmering

‘You don’t matter

and you don’t matter at all

Whatever you may do

either very big or just small

Whatever you do is useless;

and you will always fall

You may bang your head

against a high stone wall

You may bloody your fists;

ou may stand or may even crawl

Whatever you do is useless;

and you will always fall’

 

‘Then what should I do?’

Polyphemus raises his arms,

and begs till he is hoarse

‘That is but for you to decide!’

Galatea decrees with finality,

her voice etched in stone

‘You may die a lonely death

or you may burn forever

You may fade with the harsh wind

or you may pray to whomever

Whatever you do is hopeless;

and I will be yours, oh never!

You may make great plans

or you may do something clever

You may aspire big and grand

or you may rise to whatever

Whatever you do is hopeless;

and I will be yours, oh never!’

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