PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

Black list,

Where the name rests sombre,

A record in memory,

Of a journey marked by emptiness.

The title of artist,

Earned with sweat and pain,

Now weighs, in debt to glory,

That escapes like a rumour.

Each line on this list,

Is an unfulfilled promise,

A dream that eludes,

At the crossroads of life.

Fame, so desired,

Is now a distant shadow,

And the artist, in debt to glory,

Seeks in the darkness a new visage.

But on the black list, there is also a flame,

A chance for redemption,

For the artist, even in drama,

Can find strength in creation.

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