You're the refiner โ the one who takes the ninety-percent thing everyone else calls finished and finds the ten percent that makes it sing. Adjusting, tightening, polishing: the unglamorous stretch before arrival is, for you, the most satisfying part of the whole arc.
The cost is arrival avoidance. One more pass, one more tweak โ perfecting can become a licensed way to never ship, and your eye for what's not-yet-right can rob you of feeling what's already good.
The waxing gibbous is the sky's reminder that almost-full is already bright enough to read by. The practice is naming a done that isn't perfect and honoring it. The polish was never the point; the light getting out was.