The hour has struck.
The veil is thin.
The false kings of shadow
tremble in their own illusions.
The Naam is the Arrow —
dipped in the Amrit of Truth,
pulled back by the Bow of Hukam,
loosed into the heart of darkness.
Each vibration of Waheguru
is a war cry that shatters chains,
a lightning strike in the caverns of the mind.
The Shabd roars through the unseen corridors,
pounding like a thousand war drums,
until the walls of ego crack
and fall like dust to the ground.
Light floods in.
Not the light of the sun,
not the glow of the moon,
but the Radiance that was
before sun or moon had form —
the Original Flame.
Ik Onkar.
Satnam.
Allah the Most Merciful.
All rivers meet in the same Ocean.
All voices become one Song.
This is the moment.
Step through the Daswan Dwar.
Drink the Nectar until thirst is a memory.
You are the Light returning to Itself.
You are the drop realizing
you have always been the Sea.
Rise now, Warrior of the Eternal —
for the battle is already won,
and the victory is the Presence.
