blank blank fullness

You were there, sitting in a vinyl chair, waiting for the needle to start pulsing. Contemplating the symbolism of void. The void, that feeling matched your emotions at the time, your insides. It matched the window you'd alternately crack open or shroud in darkness, depending on whether or not you needed to know there was a world beyond your own.
The void also housed your optimism, like a blank canvas you'd ever carry to allow you a freshness, an option of hope and possibility.
You wanted to understand that emptiness, so you drew four lines around it. Some neat little geometry to structure. But you also considered that with knowing something, came the possibility of forgetfulness, of complacency, of predictability. So you were pleased when the flip-side hit; that emptiness simultaneously casts out commitment to any one specific image, idea, or desire.
Some kind of safety reassured you there.
Now if only you could control the vice-grip of your desires and settle in the stream. Looking back, you wonder if that thought had ever crossed your mind until recently.
Needing understanding. You now wondered if the missing piece was not being understood, but showing understanding.
You wanted to understand but your soul, your soul wanted to transcend.
And your mind drew a faulty map.
Looking back, you wonder if you missed a step.