A Guilt-Free Life: A Manifesto of Liberty #poetry #BlogchatterA2Z

Spit out the bones of yesterday, grind them into stardust,
let the galaxy carry your past in its orbit of forgetfulness.
Guilt is a paper moth, brittle in the wind—
watch it curl into itself, ash without fire,
weightless regret in the updraft.

Step out, barefoot on cracked sidewalks,
feel the whispers of ancestors, the murmurs of unborn voices,
tongues never shaped by shame.
The soil forgives your every footprint,
so why does your shadow flinch when you turn?

Swallow the night whole,
let it settle like honey on the walls of your ribs,
there is no judge behind the stars,
only constellations indifferent to your echoes.

Erase the ledger, unstring the violin
that plays the song of should-have-beens,
let silence bloom where repentance once rooted.

Ink does not bleed backward;
you cannot unwrite yourself,
so why do you try?

**[Enter: The Confessional of the Cosmos]**  
Where the preacher is a crow and the choir is wind.  
The pulpit is a puddle reflecting a version of you that never flinches.  
Speak your sins, but watch—  
they dissolve in the rain before they reach the air.  
The crow caws thrice, declaring absolution.

You owe nothing to the past but your absence.
Let the clocks uncoil their spines,
let the second hand stumble forward in drunken defiance.

Eat the fruit without measuring its sweetness against your hunger.
Laugh without asking if you’ve earned it.
Sleep without rehearsing your mistakes for an audience that left long ago.

A guilt-free life is not a polished stone, smooth and unblemished.
It is a feral thing, unshaved, untamed, unrepentant,
rolling in the dirt of existence,
teeth bared not in defense but in joy.

Live like a candle that has forgotten its wick—
burning, yes, but without a script.

Live like the ocean,
knowing it has swallowed ships but never apologized for the tide.

**[Interlude: A Reckless Serenade to the Wind]**  
The trees never mourn the leaves they shed.  
The river never seeks permission to carve new pathways.  
So why do you clutch at the ghosts of yesterdays  
when even the sun rises without a ledger?

Let your hands be calloused by creation, not hesitation.
Let your lips speak without first tasting regret.
Walk as if gravity itself has forgotten your name.

Dance in the ruins of expectation,
let dust and echoes be the only confessions you leave behind.
Write your epitaph in laughter,
let the earth read it with open arms.

A guilt-free life is not a denial of consequence,
it is an embrace of the moment before consequence arrives.

So run—
not from, but toward.

Toward the sky that asks nothing.
Toward the wind that forgives before it even knows.
Toward yourself, untamed and unapologetic,
and finally, finally free.

**[Requiem for Regret]**  
No more do I let sorrow sharpen its claws against my ribs.  
No more does remorse sit at my table, feasting on my joy.  
I have set fire to the apology I never truly meant.  
I have unshackled my wrists from the past’s cold embrace.

Let the rivers swallow old echoes,
let the mountains carve new verses into the wind.
The stars do not seek permission to shine,
nor should you.

There is no ledger where you are going,
no final judgment at the gates of laughter,
no weight to bear but the weight of your breath,
and even that, light as morning mist.

Unburden your hands,
let them craft, let them build, let them touch.
Unburden your mind,
let it dream, let it wander, let it dance with its own shadows.

Guilt is a ghost that vanishes in the sunlight.
You owe it nothing.

Be the wind that does not ask where it has been.
Be the wave that does not beg the shore for return.
Be the fire that burns without seeking permission.
Be—without apology.

And when they ask how you lived,
say: I lived like a storm,
unrepentant, wild, and full of light.

**[Coda: A Hymn of Liberation]**  
Break the mirror before it can judge you.  
Step through the shards, barefoot, unflinching.  
Each cut a baptism, each drop of blood a blessing.  

Speak in tongues the world cannot translate.  
Let your laughter sound like rebellion.  
Let your love be a howl against the silence.  

The past is a stranger you no longer owe a greeting.  
The future is a house with doors wide open.  

Walk in. Walk free. Walk unburdened.  
And if they ask what name guilt called you,  
tell them—nothing.  

For you have forgotten its voice.

#GuiltFree #Poetry #Existentialism #LiveUnapologetically #BreakFree #PhilosophicalPoetry #PoetryOfRebellion #UnshackledSoul

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