I found myself romancing LGBTQ*

                               

It is the nature of me (خذ) —the restless, incomplete self—to ache for its counterpart. Drawn inevitably toward my peer, I strive to initiate, to impress, to acquire, believing that in this earthly union, I will finally be made whole. I pour out affection, and in the next breath, I demand it in return. I travel the world, amassing treasures or dismantling my very own being, all in a desperate bid to locate my essence within another. Afterall, Isn't the peer merely a fragmented part of my soul?

My efforts feel justified, yet even when the hand is held and the union attained, the void endures. The wise turns inward, seeking completion in that same peer, only to spin in endless, futile cycles. The wiser, weary of repetition, seeks fullness elsewhere— in light, in fragrance, in stone, in the deep layers of existence.

And after countless failures, the revelation dawns: Ultimate unification is neither contained within the inverted cup nor found outside it. It transcends both. Here, I recognize myself not as a mistake, but as a missing stroke of أ.

أ, the Origin.
أ, the Absolute.
أ, the Truth.
أ, the Quest.

In this alignment, خذ ceases to be a lonely syllable. It meets the divine stroke and transforms. I encounter خُدا — not merely as a name, but as a sentence: the Self (Khud/خذ) that has finally arrived (Alif/أ). 

But from this newfound unity, a question rises: If the Divine is the Whole, and the world is its breathing nature, does this nature not hold all beings in its embrace?

I look upon the spectrum of humanity— the queer members of LGBTQ, the fluid, the varied expressions of the soul—and I ask: Are the colors of the rainbow unworthy simply because they differ from the grey? Or are they the inevitable refractions of the same Light?

Would أ exclude a part of its own script?
Would أ discriminate against its own ink?

To refuse them is to sever the connection to the خُدا. Refusal does not lead to purity; it creates separation, complicating the journey toward realization.

Spirituality breathes through all things—the silent soil, the beast, the bloom. To reject the queer is to reject a fragment of nature, a fragment of the Self, and thus, the fragment of أ.

Am I, Khud, every be capable of rejecting a part of Alif? If I am to be of Alif, I must be like Alif: vast, vertical, and encompassing.

Such rejection is unnatural; it postpones my own salvation. I must awaken to the truth: they, too, are part of this sacred union. All that is natural is spiritual. My musings, my romance with the Divine, are meaningless unless they include all of creation. And in this realization of Self, I understood that to love the light is to love the spectrum, and thus I attained the state where 'I found myself romancing the LGBTQ*' as an expression of the Divine.

- The_RO_Ideology