Hanoi
Lost in the depths of a thick sky, and heavy sunlight.
The air you breathe would choke the life from you if you'd let it.
The sound of so many motor-bikes running through the dirty streets like water,
Thick with blood and sweat.
But it all runs at a snails pace at the same time,
Rushing so fast you could take a step back and watch it crawl.
Peace took itself out of the picture, but through that step I found it,
And the grace that lay there glared at me for not seeing it before,
Through all the poverty and filth, more grace than I had ever seen.
Outside of the presence of the structure, I found God in the streets of Hanoi.
Without so much as a thing to remind me, and I didn't see it then,
And yet there he was with every soul that walked and searched to pacify their hunger.
In the heart of hell.
In any sense I fell into madness, so far removed that I lost what I hated, what I did not need fell away.
Sleep also left me, there I sat in darkness for weeks, an hour of sleep here, and of after another long bout, again.
I found grace in isolation, that I was left there in the dark and yet was not alone. I lay sleepless and felt as though I was not finished.
I was empty, but I was satisfied.
To shed all of that worthless garbage gave me freedom.
And I put it back on without a second glance.
Disgarded that guidance I had been blessed with.
Having seen what was truth, that they were fallen, as was I.
But grace still lived in the courtyard of the Hanoi Hilton, the house of death.
Life sprung from a damp cruel charnal house, and crept up on that dark keeper and swollowed it whole, Slowly, it kept down spoiled meat.
I threw it away; my direction followed a half step behind.
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The air you breathe would choke the life from you if you'd let it.
The sound of so many motor-bikes running through the dirty streets like water,
Thick with blood and sweat.
But it all runs at a snails pace at the same time,
Rushing so fast you could take a step back and watch it crawl.
Peace took itself out of the picture, but through that step I found it,
And the grace that lay there glared at me for not seeing it before,
Through all the poverty and filth, more grace than I had ever seen.
Outside of the presence of the structure, I found God in the streets of Hanoi.
Without so much as a thing to remind me, and I didn't see it then,
And yet there he was with every soul that walked and searched to pacify their hunger.
In the heart of hell.
In any sense I fell into madness, so far removed that I lost what I hated, what I did not need fell away.
Sleep also left me, there I sat in darkness for weeks, an hour of sleep here, and of after another long bout, again.
I found grace in isolation, that I was left there in the dark and yet was not alone. I lay sleepless and felt as though I was not finished.
I was empty, but I was satisfied.
To shed all of that worthless garbage gave me freedom.
And I put it back on without a second glance.
Disgarded that guidance I had been blessed with.
Having seen what was truth, that they were fallen, as was I.
But grace still lived in the courtyard of the Hanoi Hilton, the house of death.
Life sprung from a damp cruel charnal house, and crept up on that dark keeper and swollowed it whole, Slowly, it kept down spoiled meat.
I threw it away; my direction followed a half step behind.
\