The Milkweed at the Labyrinth Gate

 

Today I saw something that felt like a sign—

A milkweed growing wild at the mouth of a labyrinth.

It stood like a sentinel, delicate yet defiant.

Its leaves whispered of poison and protection,

Its pods swollen with silky secrets.

And I understood:

No one steps into the spiral of becoming

Without first facing transformation.

The milkweed is not just a flower.

It is the beginning of metamorphosis.

It feeds only those brave enough to change.

It dares the seeker to consume discomfort,

To grow wings from wounds.

It reminded me that before the path reveals the center,

We must first shed the skins that bind us.

The labyrinth waits patiently.

But the milkweed… it tests the heart.

I honor the milkweed as the guardian of my threshold—

A wild priestess of change.

She grows where the sacred journey begins,

And in her presence, I whisper:

“I am ready to be transformed.”