The Past is toothless. It gums the great silence and nothing changes. The past opened wide is a black hole, sucking everything in, letting nothing out, but belching hot air.
The Present has a fine set of choppers. It bites, and gnaws, and chews. Every moment grist for the mill of now. Crack a tooth on a hard truth, spit it out, it will grow back. Teeth crack, truth soldiers on. The mouth of now, its perpetual cud, the ever masticating cow.
The Future has fangs that puncture heads and pop brains from skulls. The fangs of the future drag along the surface raking up wishes, dreams, hopes, and desires, imprisoning all such things in eternity's maw.
So true, I love this one.
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