aurora stuck

I am paralyzed by a fabric. This fabric, in fact.
I made it over a year ago, playing around with potato dextrin (not reading the directions of course) and fiber reactive dyes. This is actually the back side of the fabric, which I have, after much debate, decided I like better than the front side.
When I look at it, I see the aurora borealis over the Mississippi. See the far shore in the picture, the reflections in the water, the streak across the sky? It's there, it's subtle, it may be all my imagination.
Sometimes I think I should just let it be, and frame it as is. I paint watercolors, too, and the hardest lesson I keep having to learn over and over is to just stop painting when it's nearly right. Go too far in watercolor, and there's no going back. Many pictures are ruined by continuing when I should have just stopped.
But then there's the thought--an evil, insidious thought--that I should continue just for a bit, that I, the almighty artist, will know when it's right to stop, there'll be no question in my mind. The almighty artist rarely speaks up at the right time. I have the discard pile to prove it.
And I do know that a lot of what I might do to this particular fabric would be reversible. But some things I do aren't. So here I sit, stuck on it as surely as it's stuck on the wall. Generally I can convince myself to dive in (I believe in the Doritos principle--use it, I can make more), but something about this piece and its serendipitous beginnings makes it a unique piece I'm afraid I can't replace.
I ironed it again today, hung it back up after not seeing it for a few weeks. I fear I will probably let it hang there until the new year, and then put it away again. Maybe the right idea for finishing it will come along, that perfect solution...but I do love the piece the way it is now.