My Cardboard Balcony

A Sparkly Princess by Belinda Roddie A sparkly princess waltzed into the room, all glitter and confetti and pizzazz, but she did nothing to offset the gloom that plagued each lady and depressed each lad. The sparkly princess danced and spun and twirled, her skirt shimmering in the morning light, hoping that she could brighten up the world and make the day not feel so much like night. Alas, the ladies sighed, and the lads wept! They were not used to simple happiness, preferring that they ate and drank and slept their troubles away, against all duress. The sparkly princess smiled despite the pain; soon, she thought wisely, sun comes after rain.

The Buddha was young. The Buddha was handsome. The Buddha was an isolated prince. He reached nirvana on the breath of a cloud, and he thought the statues of him were odd. "I am not fat," he said to himself. "Why do they make me like that?" I sat with the Buddha and listened to his words. "If you are so enlightened," I asked with a frown, "then why does the aesthetic of art matter to you?"