Last night, I stepped outside and looked up just in time to see Sirius, the dog star, crest the horizon, its brilliant light flashing like a beacon through the cold air. There she was—Molly—poised on the edge of the world, ready to leap.
Venus stood nearby, steady and radiant, her brilliant glow a silent encouragement. Old Jove and Mars, those ancient sentinels, watched from their high thrones, offering their own silent cheers, the warrior and the king urging her on.
And then—she leapt.
With a bound too swift for the eye to follow, she soared across the vaulted heavens, her light stretching beyond time, beyond the weight of earth. In that moment, the great wheel of the cosmos turned, the music of the spheres rang clear, and I knew: she runs free.
Not gone, not lost—only running ahead.
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