We spend our lives traveling the labyrinth of the heart.
Sometimes, we feel achingly close to the center of everything. We whirl like planets around something holy.
Arrival is close. Our tongue tastes it. Our breath quickens.
The corner turns.
Sometimes, we feel outcast, walking roads where we cannot even find that one constant star in the ink to guide us home.
We despair. We weep tired tears. We fall down. We surrender.
We let familiar things go and collapse into dreamless dreaming.
There, we feel the heart’s embrace. The warmth of its contact jolts us awake. We wake up to find Ariadne’s red thread in our hands.
The corner turns.
*
The labyrinth winds and tests each of us. Keep going. The corner always turns. Even when you cannot see your way, you still remain in the earth of your heart. It always knows where you are.
It is singing you home with a wild, old song. It lights up its path for you in red clay and blesses you with corn pollen and myrrh. Each step you take is part of the great call and response. The mystery springs up like breadcrumbs at your feet.