The unknown artist
His name was known by all
His face appeared on page and screen
People marvelled at his work
Admired him for being him
Now he’s gone
And his work lives on
But where’s the maker behind the made?
Who is, who was this man?
His self has slipped through time’s fingers
Even when he lived and breathed
Behind his work, behind his face
Was a man known only to himself
So who produced these masterpieces?
Who’s deserving of the admiration?
A phantom come and gone
A shadow that never shed its secret