gimbal, grommet and groyne
The suffering white side, gleaming in the sun, coveting the bending, arching bronze, greased up by the years. Feel it, make it, define its edges, make it so it does not continue past those edges, control it so it ends somewhere and you will have an object. Make another one, different margins, re-defining error, wrong and right combine the beauty of objects in their lack of opposition. Even sword and sheath are not. After a second, after a second one, after a second one has been made, think about a third and make it, like a wave of energy, dying as it solidifies into existence, all objects become deaths, like waves reaching the shore. The world a tomb full of memorials to the death of activity.
gimbal, grommet and groyne.