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


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