Now it’s here, now it’s gone,
the flittering blank that I so long.
Its existence is perfection,
its disappearance, a promise to return.
It’s the center. I’m all around.
A slight movement, and the blank fills up.
Even if they are colors gorgeous,
I yearn for the blank, the blank beautiful.
The longing defeats its purpose,
the wait takes the blank further away.
It’ll come back though, I know,
for, now, I’ve let it go.