MULTITUDE of the canopy, who governeth the host that cannot be counted, and the law by which one shape becomes a thousand. She appeareth as a thicket of small leaves burning pale upon a ground gone black, the thin branches forking and forking again, each division mothering the next, so that the eye is given no place to rest and no edge to hold. Her office is to multiply: to take the single pattern and set it branching on and on and on, until the part and the whole wear one face and the seeker can no longer say where the figure ends. She is the swarm of the whitening, the proof that the Work has no last leaf. Count her children and they double; look away and they double still; she is the many in the one, scattered into white and never spent.
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