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.