A comet passes through the night sky and, for a brief moment, the world looks up. Cameras adjust. Conversations spark. Something ancient enters our field of vision — and then it moves on.
Some comets never return.
There is something quietly unsettling about that. Because we are not accustomed to brilliance that refuses permanence. We assume that what feels aligned should remain. That what appears in our lives — especially what we’ve visualised, intended, or prayed for — confirms our power by staying.
But what if that assumption is flawed?
What if some manifestations are not designed to orbit you, but to intersect you? What if their role is redirection rather than residence?
In conscious creation, we often measure success by what we keep. Yet trajectory may be the truer metric. Where are you headed? How have you shifted? What altered your internal direction, even briefly?
Not everything bright is meant to stay. And not everything that leaves represents failure.
Sometimes, departure is completion.
