The ledger is empty, the tally is clear,
There is no weight of debt for me to bear.
No phantom hand reaches to pull on my sleeve,
Expecting a promise I didn\'t conceive.
I walk through the silence of unwritten ties,
Beneath the vast span of the indifferent skies.
No favors are owed, and no balance is due,
The slate has been wiped of the old and the new.
It is what it is—the stone and the stream,
The waking reality freed from the dream.
No anchors of duty, no tether of cost,
Nothing is gained, and nothing is lost.
Just the breath in my lungs and the ground at my feet,
Where the lack of a claim and my spirit can meet.
Loose in the marrow, and light in the limb,
I owe not a soul, and hold not a whim.
It is what it is—the curve of the line,
No part of the world says that I must be thine.
Simply existing, unburdened, and free,
With no debt to pay, and no master but me.