Time between stories, bubbles of consciousness. Telling the same story, over and over and over. About inequality. About revolution. About love and hate.
Pick a day and a year, be it right hear or far away. Put your finger on the calendar and know that somewhere, there is a war. Over rights. Over inequality. The animal or human. Insect or alien.
This struggle injects itself into everything. For greed is a disease. It is mutation. It is domination. It is the cell that is programmed to grow and divide. To take up more room each day and night. Killing its enemy from inside.
It is the struggle for freedom between the slave and the oppressor. It does not matter the year or century, the stories are connected by an invisible line through time. Fear is used to keep chains dug into flesh and mind, to keep freedom forever elusive.
It is the mistreatment of others for their small differences. To validate cheap labor, to validate a belief system, propped up by something written in a book. Choose a verse and make a hook. Hang your hat. Stay a while. Make a colony. Farm a cash crop and rape the soil your ancestors took.
Distant stars yield the same periodic table, the strife of life fully enabled. Fully programmed to make our lives overlap. Making our stories continue on and on. No matter what was begun, here by our Sun.
There is gender and there is politics. There is the dominate and the abused. As space and time consume each other, they keep the same game going on forever. This infinite dance of consciousness where we live and die. Where we are frozen and cry. For another chance to make it right.