The Army comes out only at night; they’re always there, in hiding, but as the greater light leaves the sky, and darkness descends, it emerges. They come out one by one, at first, and then, by the dozens, hundreds and multitudes. The cavalry outermost, and then the infantry further in, making a majestic circle around their captain. they sing a silent song of peace and of all the armies ever known this one alone has waged no war. The heavenly host, the array of the stars, dancing a stately quadrille, by the night and by the year, ceaselessly, until the earth itself ceases to be. And they sing: Glory.
