1. |
Just Beyond
01:49
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Where does the story begin?
Where does it find itself in the fall?
Just beyond, just beyond
Where it will show us all
Where does a bird find her wings?
Where does she find herself in the spring?
Just beyond, just beyond
Where she'll see everything
And where does a Midwinter live?
Where do they find the wonders they give?
Just beyond, just beyond
In the woods, just beyond
In the sky, just beyond
In the pages just beyond the pages you'll expect to need
The pages that write themselves are the pages that you'll read
In the woods, in the sky
Just beyond, just behind...
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2. |
Songbird Leaves
22:08
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In the woods behind the woods behind unsuspecting houses, in a place between somewhere and somewhere else, there was an old stone wall. It stretched across a small, secluded dell like a miniature bridge between two sides of a dried-up river, and it had the aura of a place imagined by children long since gone.
The structure was not more than several yards across, two-or-so feet tall at its center and approximately the same in width along the relatively level span that disappeared into opposing slopes of soil and roots. The stonework was weathered, yet sturdy enough to have the potential to be everlasting, a possibility not yet disproved. It was, perhaps, the lone piece of evidence that mankind had once attempted to bring its notions of borders and crossings to the dell. The wall was largely unadorned, except for a small, barely-noticeable opening in the shape of a semicircular arch scarcely four inches in radius where it met the valley’s dry trough. Perhaps it was a product of natural erosion, or perhaps it was designed by one who tended toward whimsy, something similar to a fairy door without the requirement of woodwork. Someone might have wondered these things, if there had been those around who could wonder, but there were not.
On a particular late afternoon of an equally late autumn of a year long since lost, a songbird scarcely four inches from beak to tail had the thought to fly down from a branch on a nearby tree to the familiar brief perch atop the stone wall. It always felt comfortable to perch there for a moment before flying to another nearby tree. The songbird did not question this, for she did not question things that brought her comfort. She did not know what type of songbird she was, but she knew she was a bird of song, and she knew her name was Bree.
A favorite spot on the wall
A quick look around, a quick look at home
For any reason not to indulge
In a blissful moment of claw upon stone
Bree's eye was drawn to something
In the bright red and orange leaves
That stuffed the arched opening under the wall
And Bree changed course
With her bright red and orange feathers
That matched so perfectly with her first fall
And she knew she could trust this feeling
Though it was quite distinct
From the feelings she knew intimately
In her own instinct
But still it felt right
And she was curious
And there was a stillness
And claw disturbed leaf
And the colors matched so perfectly
But Bree scarcely noticed as she went to work
In a process much like making a nest in reverse...
Driven to pierce the wall
A quick look around, a quick look at home
For any reason not to indulge
In this frenzied movement, though Bree was alone
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Leaf, darkness
Light
Light poured through,
a strange light that felt distant,
As if it were that faintly-remembered glow
From the perspective of her mother’s nest
So many days ago,
Filtering through living leaves above,
now filtering through dead leaves below.
And she knew she could trust this light
Though it was quite distinct
From any light she knew was real
Before she reached this brink
And Bree pushed through
And Bree looked around
Still among leaves
Still on the ground
And she saw that there were no warmly-colored leaves on the forest floor
And the promises of the wind were much more hopeful than before
And the warmth she felt was warmth of comfort she could not ignore
Because she did not question things that brought her comfort
But she could always use more
Bree then decided to get a better view
As a songbird like Bree would instinctively do
So she took off from the ground
With a graceful flap of wing
To perch upon a nearby branch...
And then she saw everything.
The sun was bright, but it was muted by the lush leaves above and around, and its rays were scattered like luminescent pollen upon the dense, leafy underbrush, upon the patches of moss upon familiar speckled rocks, upon the wildflowers growing brazenly and brightly for the insects to find, and of course, upon the stone wall itself. It was the sight Bree imagined when she felt an idyllic morning warmth upon a soon-to-open eyelid, full of all of the promise of a perfect sunrise.
Adjusting her footing as habit and instinct would often dictate, she heard her own rapid heartbeat before she realized what she was hearing from her surroundings: the sounds of life. Vibrant, renewed life. It was not just the distant bird calls of other types of birds, or the faint sounds of the insects that were long gone only moments before. It was also the crispness of it all, the freshness, the hopefulness that made a sound itself. The woods rang with a song more beautiful than even Bree could sing. And yet, it was an invitation for accompaniment, and Bree happily, yet inquisitively, obliged.
Her voice rang out over the dell, and she listened for the answer she knew would come: her name, a simple reassurance of familial memory. She shared the name Bree with all of the other songbirds of her family, differentiated by pitch and tone for each individual. And it did come, a voice very much like her own, calling out her name.
Bree, Bree
Bree, Bree
She heard a response that confers
A name, a Bree, not hers
She tried again, another pitch
More similar to her own
A moment, a call that nearly lures:
A name, a Bree, not hers
She started to feel her heart Fall-ter
So she hopped and hoped her perch would alter
Something, something...
Where was she going?
Back to the wall?
Comfort was all around her
Yet no kin at call
Back to the wall
Back to her favorite spot on the wall
She looked around one more time
At all the beauty she thought was gone
And jumped down to the ground, and through the hole
To ground herself in the less-wrong
-
As her eyes adjusted, no pleasant sight greeted Bree, nor did anything else offer anything like a greeting. The world she had accepted as reality only a small while earlier was so much more like the sorrowful goodbye of a sunset under clouds. Dark and darkening, the sun was still shining in the sky, but only for its weak beams to accentuate the beginnings of unknown decay.
But it was where she belonged, and so Bree was glad it was still there, as she could not have been certain until she saw it for herself. She felt the slight give of a brittle leaf underfoot and, without hesitation, flew up to a bare branch.
The declining scene before her, despite its lack of promise of any bright future upon the horizon, brought Bree a rise of unexplained comfort, and she did not question things that brought her comfort. And as the next logical action any songbird like Bree would find perfectly natural, Bree sang her call, expecting her pitch of name in response.
Bree, Bree
Bree, Bree
A ghostly response that confers
A name, a Bree, not hers
She tried again, another pitch
Less similar to her own
A moment, a call that nearly lures:
A name, a Bree, not hers
Again and again
Her pulse quickening
Her movements frantic
Her soul sickening
Branch to branch to branch to branch to branch to branch to branch...
Call, response, a Bree, not hers
A louder
Call, response, a Bree, not hers
A strained
Call, response, a Bree, not hers
A breathless
Call, response, a Bree, not hers
An exhausted
Call, response, a Bree, not hers
A fainting
Call...
Bree awoke upon a cushion of leaves, red with only their own color. She gingerly hopped to her feet with a shake of her feathers and looked around. She was still where she knew she was last, and the day hardly had progressed, though the sun was very low in the sky. Bree tested her wings, flying just up to her favorite stone on the wall. They were unsteady for takeoff, but she was able to quickly regain control. Bree then flew to a higher branch again. She had the urge to sing her call.
But she did not, for it no longer brought her comfort.
Bree paused, as she could not find a next action to bring her comfort so easily, looking around haphazardly at her surroundings to keep moving. A tree, a leaf, a squirrel burying something, the wall, the opening.
The world beyond the opening was unfamiliar and lonely, but now this one was, too. And there was a chance that she could be heard on the other side this time. And so, she flew to a branch, another branch, the favorite spot, the ground, and through the opening yet again.
+
The return to the bright and hopeful greenery of the other side was lovely at first, the promising rays of morning-like sunshine slightly warming Bree’s feathers. She fanned her wings out a little in response before gathering herself quickly and flying to a nearby branch. This was comfortable, but there was still hesitation in her movements as she looked around (tree, flower, squirrel running off, wall, opening) while deliberating her call. There was something different about the sun, but it was comforting, and she did not question things that brought her comfort.
Her instinct to sing eventually won over her momentary indecisiveness. She sang her call.
Bree, Bree
Bree, Bree
An expected response that confers
A name, a Bree, not hers
Bree, Bree
Bree, Bree
That expected response that confers
A name, a Bree, not hers
There was precedent for this now, so the despair was accordingly dulled. Bree welcomed this, as it was at least relative comfort compared with what she had experienced the last time. Still, with that, the novelty of the bright world was quickly fading, and the opening was the only way forward. It drew her eye more now, and she did not stop at her favorite spot on the wall before landing upon the soft grass nearby.
She looked once more to the trees above and felt how she felt when she woke up a little earlier than expected. Then, without further hesitation, she darted through.
-
On the side of waning sunset, Bree felt less than she did before: less of dread, less of hope. Still, she gave her call, and received the same impersonal response. Her family was there, but she was alone, and the repetition only reinforced the expectation further.
She did not waste any time before moving back through the opening.
+
And so, Bree began to oscillate.
- + - + - + - + - + -
Bree’s world was dimming to match the darkness of the tunnel under the stone wall, and this felt perfectly natural to Bree. After all, it was meant to be dark soon in the world where she awoke, and it would be time to sleep soon after. But both worlds were dimming at equal rates, and Bree was not feeling tired at all. In fact, she felt lighter and more agile with each pass through the opening. As she moved back and forth with increasing speed, the two worlds started to blur in her perception. All of her attention was upon the cyclical motion, and upon the opening.
She did not question this. She would not. There was another sensation, one that was steadily taking over. A sensation of comfort, and a presence of a singular multitude beckoning her out of Time itself...
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3. |
Midwinter's Invitation
06:06
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Come, Bree, come
Come with me, Bree, come with me
Come, Bree, come
Come with me to infinity
The leaves that fall in the speckled sky are stars in their own light
And in your Fall you will feel wind in your wings that will take flight
Will you join us?
Oh will you join us?
You have come so far
You have come so far
And you will go further still
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
As long as you confide
Your deepest inconsistencies to fountain, quill, and spheres
So that we may use comfort to surround your deepest fears
Will you join us?
Oh will you join us?
You have come so far
You have come so far
And you will go further still
Always further still
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
As long as you confide
In yourself
Within yourself
Writing yourself
Into yourself
And then your self
Will find your self
And we will ask you
And we will ask you
Will you join us?
Oh will you join us?
You have come so far
You have come so far
And you will go further still
Always further, always further
Always, Always
Will you join us?
Oh will you join us?
You have come so far
You have come so far
And you will go further still
Always further still
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Spread your wings, leave them behind
Either way is fine
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
Your comfort will be guaranteed
As long as you confide in us
Come, Bree, come
It is not far to the nearest star
Come, Bree, come
And we will show you just what we are...
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4. |
Phantasmanoumenon
15:36
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We live in this world we own
On the precipice of owning our magic
Leaving our darkness lit ever-so-brightly
And entering the light unknown
Shaded by the comic and the tragic
A relief of souls carved from our dreams nightly
We are constellations
We are constellations
We are constellations
We are constellations
The galaxy expands above us
A blanket weighted by memories
Of the futures we may lay our soft touch upon
Countless sparks of future glitter
As we become Andromeda
Saved by a Perseus of pure pen and noumenon
We are constellations
We are constellations
We are constellations
We are constellations
We are constellations
Waiting to be connected by
Stories told to us
By ourselves, each a star
Each and every neuron
A captain of a ship at sea
Navigating by dreamlight
As we sail, improbably far
Branch, branch, branch and extend
There are seeds of stars on every end
Branch it yourself and you shall see
The nebular tree bears its fruit to thee
Branch, branch, branch and extend
There are seeds of stars on every end
Branch it yourself and you shall see
The nebular tree bears its fruit to thee
Oh, find me here
Waiting for you
In the middle of a tale
Shining like
A ray of light
Heavy on the scale
Yes indeed
I'm in your dream
I'll wait, regain your bearings
For we have stepped
Into ourselves
With horns of splendor blaring:
"Behold! Here is a now
A crossroads of mind in dream
And these dreamers are here for a reason
And are all that they seem
For seeming is believing
And believing is what they've done
They've crossed their paths upon this moon
To create a new sun!"
But we shall not stop there
The sun is just a seed
We plant it in the soil
And give it what it needs
And when it sprouts it blazes
And blinds us with its light
And soon we see so much more
As our new plasmic bodies take flight!
We are constellations!
We are depicted on the fresco
Painted on the largest dome!
We are constellations!
The stories we tell
Are our eternal home!
Branch, branch, branch and extend
There are seeds of stars on every end
Branch it yourself and you shall see
The nebular tree bears its fruit to thee
Branch, branch, branch and extend
There are seeds of stars on every end
Branch it yourself and you shall see
The nebular tree bears its fruit to thee
Trees have written memoirs now!
Emboldened by their past!
The branches scrape the stars now!
Their words forever last!
Bend and bend and bend and bend
Extend extend extend extend
Oh beautiful infinities
Poured in discrete divinities
Into our outstretched hands
And we give it unto the lands!
And it shall breathe life into this tree!
It shall flower a story for thee!
Go forth!
Extend!
Branch!
Create!
May your
Heart be
Never
Late!
Go forth! (Past north!)
Extend! (No end!)
Branch! (Carte blanche!)
Create! (Don't wait!)
May your (Own pure)
Heart be (Carefree)
We'll never lose you to Fate!
Now, Bree, fly!
This was not the momentary or relative comfort that Bree devoted her life to achieving again and again. This was a comfort in flux, of flux. She did not have to think of her next action anymore. That sequence was broken. In this new state, each action flowed into the next, and it was always the correct action, for it was always more comfortable than the last. And through this, Bree felt at peace, though she was moving in frenzy.
Bree had not stopped singing her calls, but she carried them with her, not stopping for a moment to sing in one place. Soon, they started to become continuous, and then started to overlap, becoming a fugue. She felt herself singing, but she did not know how much of her surroundings was herself anymore. Did it stop at her feathers, which had started to turn and change? Did it stop at the wind rustling through them as she flew? Did it stop at the other songbirds joining her in this endless dance?
There were indeed others, many others, flying with her now. Their feathers turned as well, matching hers: hues of deep goldenrod and vibrant amber and dark crimson. She knew this was so, even though the darkness was near complete, for these songbirds themselves were mere feathers of Bree’s being, and Bree knew her feathers well. They were dry and brittle and graceful and majestic. And she knew where each of them came from, and where each of them would go. And she knew the sunrise and the sunset. And she knew the spring and the autumn. And she did not question any of this, for even as she faded into eternity on infinite gusts scattering her far past the ends of her world, she did not question things that brought her comfort.
Perched upon the very precipice of totality and oblivion, Bree decided, as she joined the flitting flurries of Midwinter outside of Time, that this was her new favorite spot on the wall.
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
Phantasmenoumenon!
It shall bloom forever on!
Phantasmenoumenon!
Through the asymptote of dawn!
And where can comfort be found?
Where is the non-time between sky and ground?
Just beyond, just beyond
Just look beyond to know
The many ways to go
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5. |
Comfort
01:50
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(no words, just birds and love)
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Zovi Albany, New York
Theatrical industrial and novelty techno from the NYC area.
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