The pentacle, a spectacle ...
Blue within the light
Deep into the night.
Making no sound
Yet very loud
Around, aura outreaching
Without speaking,

says to thee
in rhymes of three
A riddle to compose
Like petals of a rose.
Soft velvet with prickly thorns
To reveal an inner force born
Of a dream
Don’t scream
Or be afraid, upon ye has been laid
A powerful thought, of forget-me-not.