They are what you sink into life, biting into the fleshy goodness of everyday with wild abandon. Prized by tooth fairies and the strong-willed, these sharp bits of bone are the tools with which you hone your life as if from the whetstone of experience.

Teeth are your first right of passage.  Those milky white pearls breaking through the shell of soft gums are a promise of a life lived with fire.  You offer these first teeth up as tribute to life or the universe (you are not quite sure what mystical forces you honor though you did and still do).  One at a time they fall out to make room for new life and stronger bones.  One by one you tuck them under your pillow, the price you pay for future fortitude, future abundance doled out by that ephemeral creature, the tooth fairy, ever ready to collect her dues.

They are your power, your natural force that you bare to darkness and doubt, those demons that prefer you with nothing but soft gums.  Even your smile--that flash of two lips stretched wide across white bone--is a reminder, a warning, dare to go ahead and try.

You ignore the saccharine sweets that would corrode your sharpest essence, pushing against comforting complacency and people-pleasing; those only want to convince you that no-teeth are the best teeth.  No.  You keep yours clean from the rot sugary sentiments can bring on. You like your teeth strong and healthy, all the better to use them. 

And use them you do.  To nibble at, to savor, to devour deliciousness.  They are made for pleasure, for the pure satisfaction of biting into your life with zest; they are forever honest in their sharpness.  They are made of bone and will power, the tools which allow you to live your creed fearlessly. 

Because life takes teeth.