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