As I stare out the dome shaped window overlooking the square. It is bleak and desolate, grey and as I stand in the studio window, the silhouette of my body, my open robe reveals; no stage, no audience, no costume ready to darn, no muse to play by my side...:The Show Must Go ON! but for who is my hidden reply. You are Art-Tist ! Yet no applause yes the torch burns down and ashes lay abound. No curtain will rise tonight as I stare out the dome shaped window overlooking the square. It is bleak, and desolate..Am I speaking of me or the Carney Show of Art-Tist!!
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