He tried to step on the wind. When that worked he was off to the races.
He went for a walk on the edge of the known constellations.
He saw there was more everywhere. He headed home star-burned.
He forded the stream of forgetfulness more times than he noticed.
He drove down gaunt angels who said they were seeking a chauffeur.
He upended, defending their honour, dire mendicant beings.
He ended up writing down fables his words turned to fact.