Peas

Peas.

Some look at the world like a can of garden peas.

In a can of garden peas everything is round and compact and ordered.
One pea is money.
One pea is love.
One pea is music.
One pea is art.
The peas are complete and round and whole.
Sometimes the money pea sits next to the love pea.
Sometimes the music pea touches the art pea.
Good is a pea.
Bad is a pea.
Science and nature and maths are all peas.
The faith of every religion, a pea,
Turning and swapping around in the can.

Others look on it as a tin of mushy peas.
Not even a can.
Just the peas. Floating in nothingness.

In their brains the peas are squashed.
They are broken down into pieces.
They are mixed up and blended.
They are mushed.
Subjects entwined-
This pea is that pea, and that pea is this.
Art is music, music is art.

They swim through the pea-mulsh.
They taste the bits they like.
They feel it drain through their fingers.
They dance through the pea-mulsh and they swirl bits around.
They swap bits over, and arrange bits they like.
They weave the peas.

Order is often a human perspective,
Catagorising- a habit of mind.
Some don't let the peas be whole in their minds, but use the concept to help in their thoughts.
They use the whole pea as a tool to cope with life- but the mush as a means to escape to freedom.