Out Of Ashes

He awoke in a tidy room, lights on as
well as cloths though disheveled, tired,

and worn.  It was nothing fancy, nothing
dramatic, only a deep breath in and then

his eyes opened without the spinning
and the forgetting and that heaviness of

heart.  In that instant, things were
simplified.  The tightness in his muscles,

the aching of joints and feet and
this drudgery - miles and

miles and miles and miles, countless
miles.  Infinity is what it seemed like before,

that number that isn't a number,
unimaginable even though we try to come

up with words and familiar phrases.  "Infinity".
That is not how it seems anymore.  Things

are simplified now - the joints and
aches of this bag of bones and flesh,

rising from that metaphorical slumber - he
lifts himself out, because a whisper

in his heart said that a phoenix
rises out of ashes.