DMT Geometry Beneath the Star Garden | Psychedelic Melodic Techno (4K Visuals)

Описание: This track/video is a bit of a test run, I'm trying new things; I hope you dig it!

Enter the Star Garden—geometry starts breathing, and reality folds inward.
Night-drive hypnosis with a cosmic twist—watch the portal open at the breaks.
Peak-time pressure, then a sudden void… then the return hits like a signal flare.

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The Story ᓚᘏᗢ ➜
The Star Garden was not planted in soil.

It bloomed in the void—an orchard of constellations grafted onto the ribs of night, each “leaf” a slow-turning shard of aurora glass, each “fruit” a small star wrapped in translucent fungal lace. From a distance it looked like a wreath around an unseen throat. Up close, it revealed the truth: the Garden was anchored to something beneath it—something that did not belong to the sky.

Beneath the Star Garden, where light forgot its own name, there lay a second world: a labyrinth of geometry so ancient it had stopped being mathematics and become religion.

And the geometry was hungry.

— The Petal Gate That Listens

The first sign of the Gate was silence.

Not the absence of sound, but an intelligent hush—like a shrine demanding reverence from any creature foolish enough to approach.

It drifted under the Star Garden at the edge of a black tide: a ring of obsidian petals, each petal lacquered as if dipped in night and polished by centuries of starlight. Between the petals ran seams of faint teal glow—mycelial veins, alive, pulsing, remembering.

Around the Gate grew the Lanterncaps: colossal mushrooms with caps like cathedral domes, gills made of opaline glass, stems ribbed with pale biolum fiber. They were rooted in nothing, floating, yet they thrived—feeding on the Garden’s spill of photons and the Gate’s older, darker breath.

From the shadowed side of a drifting Lanterncap emerged the traveler.

They were humanoid in shape, but not of any planet that had ever known a normal sun.

Astra-Veyl, the Iridescent Cartographer—a being of layered materials and deliberate mystery. Their skin resembled wet basalt under moonlight, threaded with dim cyan veins that shifted like living ink. Their face was covered by a mask of smoked crystal, inside which faint geometric patterns moved like a slow tide—triangles becoming eyes, eyes becoming spirals, spirals becoming doors. Four slender arms unfolded from a cloak of star-silk, each hand ending in long articulated fingers tipped with pearl-black claws, made for writing on impossible surfaces.

On their back, bound by braided luminous cord, rode a living artifact: the Chronospore Lantern—a seed-pod the size of a skull, half fungus and half gemstone, its surface plated in thin mirror petals. It pulsed like a heart. When danger neared, it bloomed; when truth neared, it hummed.

Astra-Veyl was not alone.

Coiled around their ankles like smoke given purpose slithered a Lumen Eel, a ribbon-bodied creature of transparent flesh and liquid-glass bones. Its spine held tiny star-points that blinked in sequences like language. It had no eyes—only a ring of prismatic pores along its head that tasted reality and found it… edible.


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