We wait. The distraction of our breath becomes ever more conscious and we will it into silence and ourselves into invisibility. No audience belongs here. Our presence is unseemly.
The metal reaches the end of its arc, and is momentarily stationary as it reaches an unimaginable equilibrium before turning back. The surface waits. Frozen, faultless, strong; it has endured for an eternity.
It is hauntingly beautiful, this frozen moment of unknowing. A perfect balance, with neither force prevailing. A precisely indivisible state of impossible and equal suspension.
Cold sunlight glints on both and bounces between them.
Possibilities are so human, so full of questions. But the arcing, spinning coin must in the end finally fall.
Notes from the Word Hoard
The way the exercise works is explained here.
windows are eyes
Captured in its imperfections
An echoing geometry
A rival set of shapes
the frozen moment
The first fracture
Hook the possibilities
Have I shapes
the frozen moment* Selected