The era of trembling before gangsters is dead and buried. No more shall missiles and media lies decide the fate of a proud nation. Iran has risen like a storm forged in Karbala, marching not in fear but in fire. Let them come with their fleets, their sanctions, their assassins, we say: come and count your coffins. This is not Iraq under a puppet, nor Libya under a playboy, nor Sudan under a coward. This is Iran. Fortified by martyrs, led by muttaqin, and anchored in a promise that tyrants can not break. We do not flinch. We do not fold. We do not fall. For every drone they send, we send a doctrine. For every strike they launch, we answer with MAD. Yes, Mutually Assured Destruction. Yet, amid the fire and the fury, some trembling tongues plead with Iran to show restraint. Restraint? When your ideological son is being pounded into the soil, and you ask the pounder to be merciful? What stupidity, what cowardice, what foul betrayal cloaked in diplomatic language! This is not the hour of appeasement. This is the hour of reckoning.
“Hayhat minna al-dhilla!” Far from us is disgrace.
That was Husain’s cry at Karbala. Today, it is Iran’s standing order.
Those who once saw themselves as the only masters on the chessboard have come to a terrifying realization: Iran is neither a pawn nor a piece, but a player. And not just a player, but a master of the game. The old order dictated that when the West speaks, the East trembles. That when a capital is bombed, its people beg. When a scientist is assassinated, the lab is abandoned. But not anymore. The axis has shifted. The centre has moved. The roar is no longer coming from Washington. It is echoing from Tehran, from Beirut, from Gaza, from Yemen, and yes, from Najaf and Karbala. Iran has connected every fault line of the region and electrified it with dignity.
The hypocrites now speak of proportionality. Those who carpet-bombed Fallujah, who melted Mosul, who erased Tripoli and tore Khartoum, now preach about restraint. They watched as Israel flattened Gaza and then turned to Iran and said, “calm down.” They saw the bones of children crushed under American bombs in Yemen, yet ask the Houthis to “respect maritime laws.” It is a demonic theatre. And worst of all are those within, the cowardly cousins in our midst who look into the eyes of the oppressor and ask him to slow down, not out of justice, but out of fear that resistance might actually succeed. These are not peacemakers. These are appeasers soaked in the filthy stench of surrender.
Tell us: What kind of father watches his son beaten and begs the attacker to show mercy instead of standing up to stop the blows? What kind of movement claims to honour martyrdom yet recoils at retaliation? What kind of ummah, yes, ummah, bows when it should rise? What kind of umma kneels when it should be standing holding its head high. This is the hour when lines are drawn not with ink but with blood. If your ally is burning and your response is to call for patience from the one holding the torch, then you are not neutral. You are complicit.
Yet, Iran has had enough of complicity. Enough of polite condemnations. Enough of UN theatrics and Arab League lullabies. It has chosen not silence but salvos. It’s not submission but sovereignty. Its missiles speak a language the colonizer finally understands: consequence. You can not attack the sacred, mock the resistance, kill its leaders, and expect a thank-you note. You will hear from Iran, and not through soundbites, but through seismic alerts. _Dem go de hear am tire_.
What we are witnessing is not madness. It is a method. It’s not rage but a reason. Iran has recalibrated modern deterrence by centring it in faith, not fear. While NATO holds meetings, Iran holds firm. While others wait for green lights, Iran is already on the move. Not recklessly, but righteously. Every strike is a sermon. Every retaliation is a verse in the scripture of justice. This is the divine logic of muttaqi leadership: to act with courage when silence equals betrayal and to strike with honour when dignity is under attack.
Compare this to the wreckage of those who chose the West’s embrace over their people’s trust. Where are they now? Saddam died in the hangers noose. Gaddafi in a gutter. Bashir in disgrace. Assad survives, but maimed and beholden. They compromised and collapsed. But Iran? Iran endured. Sanctioned, sabotaged, slandered. Yet, it endured. Not through oil wealth or military bulk, but through the iron of belief.
They tried to break Iran. Instead, they baked it in the furnace of trials. Now, the same Iran they tried to isolate leads the most potent and principled resistance front, the modern world has ever seen. When Gaza bleeds, Iran binds. When Quds is threatened, Iran arms. When lies are broadcast, Iran reveals. Its role is not decorative. It is decisive.
And now, with every passing hour, the curtain inches closer to falling. Not on Iran, but on Zionism itself. The pounding has reached such intensity, such precision, that even hardened analysts admit: a resounding defeat is no longer a matter of if, but when. Some say two weeks. Some say less. And the West knows it. Washington knows it. The trembling Arab royals know it. And Israel? Feels it!
It is not a military embarrassment at stake. It is a total ideological collapse. Because should Israel fall, not just tactically but symbolically, Iran will not only emerge victorious, it will emerge as the undisputed, real, true, and genuine superpower. A power born not of petrodollars or foreign bases, but of spirit, patience, blood, and divine justice. And this, the West can not accept. This, they have sworn in their backrooms and war rooms, must not be allowed to happen.
So the game turns frantic. The threats grow shriller. The tone becomes desperate. “Severe consequences,” they shout, as if Iran hasn’t endured four decades of every form of consequence known to mankind. They threaten what has already survived. And when threats prove hollow, they lean on their puppets. They summon their hirelinhgs, not to fight, not to defend, but to beg Iran for a ceasefire. The same Iran they mocked, they now pressure to save Israel, not from defeat, but from obliteration.
It is a carrot-and-stick show with no subtlety. Behind the scenes, emissaries fly. Phone lines ring. “Spare Israel, and we will lift all sanctions,” they whisper. But they do not understand the logic of Karbala. You do not trade divine missions for temporary peanuts. You do not halt the march of justice to accommodate the fears of criminals.
And Iran, wise as it is, sees through it all. This is why, in a moment of profound clarity and escalation, the Supreme Leader reportedly transferred full authority to the IRGC High Command. It’s not a symbolic gesture. Not a signal for internal unity. But a wartime declaration. A theological earthquake. It means the game has changed. It means diplomacy has ended. It means that if the United States or its allies take one more stupid step… a step they are already tempted to take, there will be no respite for Israel. No sanctuaries. No shelters. No tomorrow.
Because at that point, the gloves are off. The masks fall. The world becomes binary: truth or treachery. Resistance or retreat. And every major actor on the fence; Russia, China, Pakistan, the resistance fronts, and even silent nations tired of imperial arrogance, will be forced to take a stand. No more neutrality. No more observers. The fire will demand fuel, and everyone will know their place.
And herein lies the terrifying genius of Iran’s posture. Even in the midst of this historic missile barrage on Israel, the IRGC High Command declared with quiet thunder: “The real war has not yet begun.” Imagine that. What we see is just the overture. The actual symphony of retribution and reckoning. Simply put, resetting the entire architecture of West Asian power is yet to come.
Let the West chew on that. Let Tel Aviv choke on it. Let every drone operator in Nevada and every general in Najad wake up in cold sweat. Because this is not just warfare. This is divine choreography. This is prophecy made policy. This is martyrdom weaponized as deterrence. And those who thought Iran would stop short of total victory never understood what it means to be led by muttaqi leadership.
And so, history marches. The sky trembles. The fake thrones rattle. And Iran, calm, composed, and calculating, prepares not for survival but for supremacy. A supremacy not of empire, but of example. A supremacy not bought, but bled for. A supremacy that says to every oppressed child in Gaza, every forgotten soul in Bahrain, every hunted fighter in southern Lebanon: Stand. Stand now. We are not negotiating your dignity anymore. We are enforcing it.
If they escalate, we escalate. If they burn, we blaze. If they open hell, we reply with dancing missiles as the music plays on. Because this time, the oppressor will not walk away bruised. He will crawl away broken, if at all. The age of fear is over. The age of fire has begun.
“Hayhat minna al-dhilla!”
We did not start this war, but we will finish it. On our own terms!
Maganin ban haushi, ban kashi.
Maganin kar ayi, kar a fara.
Maganin ƙiy gudu, sa gudu.
Faɗuwar gaba asarar namiji.