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thorough
    that you do not see the image you reflect
into the world
    do the rays coming from the prism through
which your sun shines
    flee their source and outstrip your
vision
    is your shadow invisible to yourself
    like you, like all, no one sees the changing
perceptions of our fellows
    as they cast their eye upon us
    no one can know what another sees in
themselves
    i desire to protect you, to cup you in my
hand and bring you home
    a new light for all of our worlds
    a flower that may never die
     
    She laid the message down.
    The telephone rang. It was one of her
contacts. He had a name for her: RJ Sublime.
palace
    When Martha left him, Karl was desolate. It
took months, even with his peculiar resilience, to get his
bearings. He grew up quickly, burying the pain. His natural joy
battle with the pain of being alone - of having no family, of being
abandoned. He found no solace, except for going a bit crazy. He
wanted to find Martha, wanted the simplest thing - someone to love
and be loved by. He knew that wounded, abandoned child would never
really heal. There was too much fear from the hunting world, too
much mystery in his inevitable destiny. Martha’s note told Karl the
awful truth, between the lines. He had been created for something,
some dark purpose. He had to find something, to heal it - and it
was beyond all help. She didn’t say that, didn’t even understand it
herself, but he could read it behind her words. She knew without
knowing and told him without telling. The knowledge was too much
for her, so she shut it away, but still told him.
    Karl was a social genius who mirrored
others, a highly gifted empath. His seeming madness was more of a
place to hide, a cover. He had convinced himself of it. A touch of
insanity rendered one invisible. People instinctively looked away;
it made them uncomfortable. People don’t want to know more than
they need to know about a person who is crazy. Karl was actually
among the sanest people. His past made him invisible and this was
the result, a skin of madness over a deep reservoir of sanity, a
lunatic veil to disappear behind. He needed it. Because he craved
love so much, because he was made to love, but his best and only
experience of it was destroyed, he was terrified of it. When all of
a child’s love is torn away, he cannot love properly anymore. So he
forgot Martha, shoved the memory away and lived a shadow of a life.
But he never quit wanting to be a little boy again, in his mother’s
arms.
    Somebody named the Sergeant found Karl in
Lyons, where he was taking classes in art and philosophy. He asked
if he wanted to do something truly interesting and Karl agreed
readily. He felt as if something he was waiting for had finally
arrived. He was afraid - he could feel a lot of darkness in the
path, but knew there was no other. He had to be who he was. So Karl
left his life behind, like that. He called an acquaintance to
spread the word so no one would be concerned. He told them he had a
family emergency and had to go for an extended period.
    They arrived at the General’s palace in the
middle of the night. During the drive, the Sergeant told him about
a man named LuvRay and another named RJ Sublime, part of the
team.
    Four days later, Karl walked into the
spacious dining room, holding a dinner invitation in his hand.
Eight o’clock. He was right on time. A man was in the room. His
face was weathered, brown, and thin. His body was very lean. He
wore a tan leather vest which caught Karl’s eye, Indian looking. He
also wore moccasins of a similar material. Karl held out his hand
and heard a laugh.
    RJ Sublime. Karl had met him two days
before. “He doesn’t do that,” RJ said. “Not every canus is
domesticus.”
    LuvRay looked at the hand and blinked
slowly.
    Karl dropped it. “My name is Karl. You must
be LuvRay.”
    “Hello, Karl.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I know soon.” LuvRay had such a deep,
brooding energy, a well of wisdom carved in a being born into