Not in a hurried way,
But how one usually stops, you hope,
Logically and gay,
Slowing down first, in anticipation,
To minimize the jerk,
That always comes after every pause,
As subtle as a child's rebellious shirk,
As missed as oxygen aft' a long run,
For whatever reason,
The body needs to feel itself thrown back,
Or there's no completion.
It's in limbo,
A reminder that mind lives in matter,
And provides the context for all thinking.