He sought a moment of transcendence on the mountain top.

Or perhaps the moment sought him like a desert scorpion.

The visioning of his ancestors coalesced in his afflicted mind.

Resolute aspirations of an unnamed destiny haunted his disillusioned spirit.

His range of view emerged out of his inner sensations.

He was companionless, alone with thoughts about past and future.

The others would not believe him; he scarce believed himself.

He took off his shoes and approached the imminent void.

Ideas with crystal-like symmetries guided him into the unknown.

He was who he was. His book’s preface was written.