Walking the circle trail I made.  
A temporary scar in the grass.
Under the peeking moon.  
I share my secrets to the stars.

The old light hears true.
Imaginations are realities in the elsewhere eternity.
Sometimes I wonder.
If we absorb it all from there.  

But my stars shine over them.
Walking their circle made trails in their night.
I could only wonder if my secrets were received.
Or simply understood as imaginations and ideas.