Where are all the Michelangelos gone?

The Greek sculptures of glowing, exuberant, healthy men and women,

the blossoming and naivety of Renaissance paintings,

and the enchanting houses of fairy tales

that mother used to read to me as a child?

Where are all the buildings

with detailed architecture to brighten up our days,

free to breathe in wider spaces,

intricate ornaments in the façades of old?

The Gaudís, the Dalís, the Taj Mahals and the Great Mosque,

What happened to the canons of beauty

that bring enlightenment to the soul?

Steel and concrete, straight lines is what we have.

Sculptures made of abstract cages in roundabouts,

a couple of erected iron rods in a park.

Stifling grey square spaces,

basic, functional, meaningless, like life.

So that we stop dreaming.

So that we stop feeling.

So that we forget what it is living.

At least I’ve lived before.