On a Sunday afternoon, <br />when temperatures soared <br />in the Australian outback <br />he sat, silently on a termite hill <br />trusting the high voltage lines <br />to shield and hide him from God. <br /> <br />Though sitting, God had seen <br />the footprints he had left behind. <br />It must have been his very soul <br />that tasted the hot sand. <br />As the Aborigines can tell you <br />no part of any soul <br />will ever vanish.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/outback-soul/
