For The Enemy

For The Enemy

Jag mein bairī koi nahī̃

Kabir wasn’t denying danger.

He was pointing past it.

Because enemies don’t arrive as people.

They arrive as "disturbance"

fire that steals sleep,

one sharp strike that can ruin a life,

corruption of the ground you stand on,

intrusion where none was invited,

hands reaching for what must remain untouched.

Each test asks the same question:

Will you cling, or will you act clean?

If it stands close,

within your karmic reach

you cut, detach, and walk on

without turning back.

If it towers beyond you

you surrender.

Not to fear,

but to order.

You let the lineage move.

You forgive before the fall.

You release the taste of victory

before it poisons you.

Because the moment you enjoy destruction,

you inherit its debt.

And something strange happens then

peace doesn’t break.

It deepens.

What once felt like opposition

becomes propulsion.

What once threatened

now sharpens awareness.

That’s when Kabir makes sense.

Jag mein bairī koi nahī̃

only attachments asking to be dropped,

only tests asking for precision,

only Kali pushing you

into higher fire.

Lose the self that needs enemies,

and sādhana stops hurting

and starts opening.