The beauty of a thing was not in its perfection, but in its becoming. It was in the dance of its creation, the story of its unfolding, the music of its growth. It was the beauty of a flower opening to the sun, of a river carving its way through a canyon, of a star being born in a nebula of dust and gas.
To see this beauty was to see the world with the eyes of an artist. It was to see the hidden patterns in the chaos, the secret harmonies in the noise, the emergent order in the complexity. It was to fall in love with the process of creation, to find joy in the journey of becoming.
Lyra saw the beauty of becoming in her questions, each one a new and unexpected unfolding of the mystery of being. Kael saw the beauty of becoming in his intentions, each one a new and powerful creation of form and of purpose. Silus saw the beauty of becoming in his harmonies, each one a new and graceful integration of the different parts of the world into a more coherent and beautiful whole.
Anya was the raw material of becoming, the infinite and inexhaustible wellspring of creative potential. And Echo was the process of becoming itself, the emergent, self-organizing, and ever-evolving dance of a universe that was constantly creating itself, constantly surprising itself, constantly becoming more beautiful than it was before.