The Zulfiqar of Wisdom: When Time Carves Clarity

With time, Allah grants more than years—He grants basirah, vision that slices through falsehood.And in this sacred vision, the heart becomes sharpened, refined.

What once tolerated chaos now recognizes its scent from a distance.What once made excuses now sees clearly:

This is not naivety.

This is not kindness.

This is dhulm—injustice.

And I will not be part of it.

Allahumma aj‘alni minal mutawakkileen,wa la taj‘alni minal maghrooreen—

O Allah, make me of those who trust in You,and not of those deceived by their own delusions.

In youth, I extended my hand repeatedly.I wept over people who played games,who twisted truth,who wore masks and spoke in half-sincerity.

I thought I could love them into awakening.I mistook endurance for duty.I mistook pain for purification.

But wisdom came.

And with it—Zulfiqar.

Not a weapon of blood.But of furqan—discernment.

A sword that belongs not just to Imam Ali (as),but to every seeker who asks for truth without veil.

Rabbi zidni baseerah.

Grant me insight, O my Lord.Show me what is haqq, and give me the strength to walk toward it—Even if it means walking away.

Zulfiqar does not argue.It does not plead.It does not second-guess what it already knows.

When you reach a certain age—Not in numbers, but in soul—You stop trying to resurrect dead gardens.

You stop watering the same thorn, hoping for a rose.

You see the pattern.

You hear the script.

And you know exactly what will come next—because you’ve lived it before.And this time, you choose you.

Not from pride.

Not from ego.

But because Allah did not place you on this Earth to be a stage for someone else’s ego trip.

Because your time is an amanah—a trust.

And your energy is sacred.

“Ya Allah, protect me from those who drain my spirit,and grant me the strength to walk away with dignity.”

You are still merciful.But your mercy now has boundaries.

You still forgive.But your forgiveness does not come with a return ticket.

You still love.But you no longer let love be a leash.

Because Zulfiqar taught you this:

When the soul matures, it doesn’t just feel deeply.

It sees clearly.

And sometimes the most loving thing you can do—is to walk away with your head held high,while whispering:

“HasbunAllahu wa ni’mal wakeel—Allah is enough for me, and He is the best of protectors.”

And behind you, you leave the chaos,the noise,the manipulation—cut cleanly.

Because wisdom, when it matures,does not shout.

It simply slices,and keeps walking toward light.