By the mid-16th century, Michelangelo had already created the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the David, and the Pietà. But the second half of his life would reveal a different artist—less triumphant, more troubled. In a world shaken by war, religious reform, and the collapse of ideals, Michelangelo turned inward. His sculptures for the Medici tombs in the New Sacristy reflect not grandeur but restless tension. His Last Judgement thunders with doubt as much as divine order. And the Laurentian Library—part architectural marvel, part metaphysical riddle—speaks to a mind questioning the very structure of knowledge and power. This is not the confident Michelangelo of the High Renaissance. This is a man confronting death, legacy, and the limits of the human body and soul.