Spiritual sustenance, naturally.

A poem that says it all

Born innocent, one

– that’s I –

strives hard to become

an adult, no longer childish,


in one’s art, one’s love, one’s life . . .

Then discovers:

that no one ever

becomes an adult,

becomes either

delightfully childlike

or pitifully juvenile . . .


one’s art to be outside the art game

one’s faith outside the religious game

one’s love outside the sex game


one’s own little song

and dares to sing it

in all variations,

unsuited as it may be

for mass communication . . .

For perhaps

here and there

someone will hear it

and listen

and know

and say


From Art as a Way: A Return to the Spiritual Roots, Frederick Franck, New York: Crossroad, 1981

Comments on: "A poem that says it all" (4)

  1. Ah yes!

    I respond to that little child.

    Always will.

    They’re the best thing about our Self.

    michael j


  2. Frederick Franck has been one of my heroes for many years. I LOVE this poem. It seems so true to him – and to you. Love.


    • Thanks, Cris. Franck is one of my long-time favorites, too. Every time I look at one of his books, it makes me want to hand-letter and illustrate a book myself! In my spare time!


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