Bone and ashes

You think you know me;
that figment dancing in your mind's eye.
You think you understand me;
that puppet dangling from imaginary strings.
You believe you know what's best for me;
as though you could see inside my soul.

I am that one which in the end
feeds upon your flesh and marrow,
when your faerie tale has ended;
when the legend of yourself
has come to mud and dust,
and all that's left is all that's been;
bone and ashes and endless time.

Another magic tale will call for telling.
Another kingdom born to rise and fall.
And the heroes and the villains,
with all those damsels in distress,
will utter pithy lines of verse.
As though what they cry and chant
were somehow real and more than just
bone and ashes and endless time.