Driving in the fast lane - infinite, and all at your finger tips.
The wind pushes and pulls on your skin, trying to release your soul.
Hold something so beautiful as stinkweed up in your hands. Let nature take it's course.
Why are you holding that cigarette with a tremor?
Somebody or something told you one day that it would all better if you just sucked up that smoke.
Just once.
Have you ever looked at a stinkweed?
How deceived can the vast and immensely able mind of a human be.
Humans and robots both look at the stinkweed.
Humans and robots both look at cigarettes.
The robot says the stinkweed is "a various rank-smelling plant".
And the human could say the same. Yet it can be the tree of heaven as well.
The robot says a cigarette is "a small roll of finely cut tobacco for smoking".
A human says it was another way for me to fit in. I'm addicted now.
The stinkweed with it's white, soft, flowery glow seems more than inviting from below a grassy hill.
The cigarette butt is just another sign of an addiction, or an attempt from someone to be something.

I tightly grasped that stinkweed between my fingers, and let the wind rippling around the soaring vehicle pull it back and forth.
It's so strong for such a pretty thing.
There sits a man in a car, trembling with his cigarette only barely grazing the fresh whipping air or the night.
You wouldn't dare let the cigarette act as the stinkweed, would you?
I cannot believe this strong beautiful piece of nature repels those knowledgeable.
'If that's the case,' she whispered, 'I'd rather have never known.'
Man-made becomes danger. Remember the days of dandelion picking?
Lose all sense of logic for a moment.
Let the stinkweed teach you what it's like to be free. To never know, but to dream.
Don't be scared.

My soul was pulled away from my group just as the air of the natural world filled my lungs.

Just once.
The path of concrete seemed as hot lava to my almost paper-like shoes.
Let me feel the grass.
An open field of grasses and stones spread under the setting sun.
All these signs of life touched mine as I would brush them lightly.
Don't make me follow you, just let me feel for a bit.
Aimlessly - almost butterfly-like - I found myself upon a hill.
Orange light beaming all around kissing my skin.
That's when I took to the unfamiliar heaven plant.
The stinkweed grabbed me as I grabbed for it.
For a moment I thought, I don't want this precious beauty to die so soon.
Yet as I tried to let go it pulled me back to it.
That's when I met the stinkweed.
Not soon after I was told what it really was, and it flustered me.

That evening I wanted the stinkweed to sleep with stars.
Upon a stone it lay and I left it.

There is a time in life where souls touch. Every living being can touch you if you let it. When you let that cigarette touch not only the tip of your lips, but your mind, you gave in. Look for the stinkweed. Don't let life that strong and beautiful slip away.