city of stones

“Passing Through The Western Lagoon” was the first song written for Planet Heaven and laid the thematic foundation for much of what followed. Grappling with themes of transience and ephemerality, as well as the heaven-like beauty of the natural world, the song emerged from a period of enforced reflection—ideas that had been “whirling around [his] conscious and subconscious mind since those long, empty, pandemic days,” as Jeremy Tuplin puts it. Jeremy’s hypnotic lyrical delivery set against delayed-effect picked guitar, synths and strings sets the scene for a great intro to Planet Heaven. Effortlessly from intimate moments to outer space,  Tuplin says, “I found myself trying to piece something large and cohesive together that focused on specific memories and images but was also kind of about everything.”

“The Western Lagoon could be a corner of Earth,” Tuplin says, “or it could be our planet’s location in the galaxy—a tiny, shining, celestial blue paradise. Or it’s wherever you want it to be.”

Passing Through The Western Lagoon RADIO EDIT

Roi De L'Herbe

King Of The Grass

In collaboration with Francess Harris. She played the piano composition and I did the composition of the orchestral arrangement. Thank you for listening and enjoy. Any comment is appreciated always.

Collaboration Timothy McGuire / Francess Harris

Lost Then Found

Lost Then Found (feat. Fr. Harris)

watch: https://youtu.be/AS-rwCl3TuY?si=uCpKNV8fXN97dtqT

the reason | hoobastank (beautiful piano)

🖤 The Miracle Syndicate — “Room Without a Mirror” 

Woke at four,
shoes still by the door.
One light flickers,
floorboards warped and sore.

Numb from skin to sound,
clock has no more hands.
Staring at the ceiling cracks,
I still don’t understand.

Call me — dare you.
Feed the thought, undo me.
Fall through — dare you.
One breath away from losing.

This is a room without a mirror,
no one to face, no one to fear.
Days fold over, thin as air.
I speak, but no one’s there.

Three missed calls,
numbers I don’t save.
Voice notes haunt
the space I crave.

Can’t read my own reflections,
shades drawn tight.
My voice a slow infection,
folding out of sight.

Call me — dare you.
Feed the thought, undo me.
Fall through — dare you.
One breath away from losing.

This is a room without a mirror,
no one to face, no one to fear.
Days fold over, thin as air.
I speak, but no one’s there.

Every word’s a wire,
pulled too thin.
Every look’s a fire
I won’t let in.

Room without a mirror,
face without a name.
Lie here in the static,
feed the frame.

Credits:

Nayeli Astra: Vox, Guitar
Elena Morgenstern: Backing Vox, Synths & Sequencers
Brad Astra: Programming, Percussion, Bass Guitar, Rhythm Guitar

Special Thanks:
To the ravens who guided our melodies, the universe for its endless inspiration, and to everyone who has been part of this journey. This music collection is dedicated to those who dream with their eyes open.

In Loving Memory:
To Rio, who always listened.

Recorded at:
Nude Studio · Calgary, Alberta

Artwork + Photography:
Brad Astra

Label:
Painful Records Ltd.

© 2025 The Miracle Syndicate · All rights reserved
Written and Produced by Brad Astra