The Past is past, such is her nature
Always behind the Present
And yet, so many choose
To live within her

To sacrifice the everyday
In order to curl around those
Past fleeting moments of joy
Giving a flickering light

The Present, the instant, the suffocating dark
Always ready to ***** out that small spark of light
Never stable, shifting with the winds of time
A sudden change, a sweeping wave

The Future, both hope and doom
The light of hope, of love, of joy
The dark of dread, of hate, of death
But never foreseeable. Never done.