THE BUSHMAN

The Bushman, the nomad of the desert and the plains, sat on a high outcrop of rocks and overlooked the majestic African valley. The antelope grazed out far on the horizon, and a pride of lions were resting in the blissful shade of large thorn tree. All was at peace, as the pleasant breeze stroked the yellowing grass stems, just like it stroked the harmony of his soul out in veldt, and the splendour of nature. This land was untouched and unspoilt by the interference of man. It was the essence of harmony and peace in itself. It was the balance of nature, made complete in man, and his magnificent surroundings. The sun was high up in the clear blue African sky, shining like new minted copper, with warmth and purpose - like a king of the sky. Ruling all from above, ruling all with balance and might and glory, for all time to come. The Bushman sat for a long time and soaked up the bounty of his world. Riches beyond compare, might vaster than any worldly kingdom. He was at ease and all was as it should be, all was in balance and harmony eternally. As the sun began to set on the western horizon, he gathered up his hunting gear, and started trotting down the hill to follow the foot trail back home through valley of splendour. Back to the home of his kin and his people.