Where death and birth
Do not prevail,
Where no one has
Even heard of death,
Come, Kabir,
To that land of bliss
Where the Lord
Is the healer
Of all your ills.

K.G., p. 60:1

Live in the world's ocean
Of turmoil and dread
As a lotus lives in the lake
But is never wet;
Take your soul
To that land, Kabir,
Where Kal and his agents
An entry cannot find.

K.S.S., p. 114:2

Kabir proceeds
To his Beloved's feet,
Having unfettered himself
Of cravings and maya's lure;
High in the sky
He has made his dwelling —
Kal in frustration
Curses his fate.

K.G., p. 60:3

K.G., p. 60:4

Who makes his home
The top of a scaffold,
Who gladly poison eats,
How can Kal touch him,
For he is alert
Throughout the eight beats.

K.S.S., p. 116:25

Kabir has made his self
Sharp and thin
By whetting it
On love and longing's hone.
My heart thus made fine
Has merged with each petal
Of my Beloved's lotus feet;
Kal is in retreat,
For I am beyond his reach.

K.G., p. 60:5