What Shall I Do?

“What shall I do?” I shout to the stars, hoping just one will respond. I reach my hand up, trying to pull a speck of light from the sky. Begging for an answer. “What shall I do?” This time, the words escape my lips in a whisper. I point my finger towards the night, tracing spills and splashes of stars in the sky. Begging for an answer. Resting my head on the soft soil, I breathe in the warm scent of the crunchy brown leaves. Once more I ask the enveloping darkness “What shall I do?” But all that’s left is an endless night, A night to the likes of Pollock A night which knows no end A night full of gentle breezes and surprises. A night that no longer makes me question “What shall I do?”