The Broken Lazuardi

Is, is not, is, there said The Euclidean, guiding the stone geometers measured one of the side of a pentagon, a pentagon from a sapphire blue as the deepest ocean.

A lazuardi the geometer was making for The Queen. The Queen of the fairest in the Land of Opylus, skin as pale as the fairest candle, lips as red as San Marzano tomatoes, eyes as blue as the sapphire in his fist. Of whoever else he would not be willing to, nor able to, imagine of wearing such noble sapphire so fit she would . Those deep blue eyes were the most of the suite to become vicinal by what soon to become one sapphire lazuardi collar her eyes' blue.

Just one final touch, and in due course the following noon, shall the Land of Opylus witness a living painting of The Blue-Eyed Queen with her Blue-Eyed Collar.

Whilst men would stare at the Queen for his fairness and physical beauty; whilst ladies around her would glare, admire, and be jealous of her jewellery, the geometer could not but stare at what he always thought to see towards the Queen...anything but the inner soul of the lady inside.

The geometer could not help to finish the final touch of what always made his carving stunningly perfect. His joy. He could not gave his joy. Not this time.

For the lazuardi collar was a gift he shall present as her wedding jewel. With the man of her league, by her own choice, a man who not a single chance,in this world, would be him.

As much as he did not want to give a touch of grief for this present he should have carved with all his heart,as what he swore he would always do to all of his customers, however hard he tried, he could only pour in his lament.

... So there carved The Broken Lazuardi.

A sapphire twinkling tenderly, however fragile it might seem, which stayed The Most Beautiful Lazuardi ever made in the Land of Opylus,long,long time ago, shining brightly in the crowd beyond the Queen's dress, as a mark of how hard the geometer tried to let her go.

Pursue and caught what had to be her happiness in her own palm.