Struggle To Manhood Poem by LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

Shall my sorrow once turn to laughter?
Who is he that has prophesied?
You false prophet hold it to yourself.
When shall I become a man? When?
Even then manhood is a struggle;
I crept and toiled daily for subsistence
As though the cursed serpent
But cursed I was not.

Have all not developed teeth?
Yet teeth development remains a dream to me.
Have all not stood and walked?
Yet walking remains a dream to me.
O', ornament of the most God
Feed me with the milk of thy breast
As though a child fed by his mother;
I am this child of the boneless,
Within me lie these potencies of creativity
Though not yet full to create,
Still on the struggle to manhood.