“Can you release what you’ve outgrown,  

even if it once felt like home?”

 

This Gate isn’t made of stone.  

It’s woven from all you’ve clung to.

 

To pass through is to shed.  

To unclench.  

To offer back to the cosmos every role  

you were praised for, imprisoned by, or protected with.

 

You will not be punished for grieving what once saved you.  

But you must leave it here.

 

No sword can be lifted with clenched fists.  

No light can expand through a body still bracing for exile.