Dogged

Was is logged 
or rugged? Is
this forest an
explanation or
an idea? Were the
trees felled by the
breeze or made to 
dance in a sneeze?
Attempts are well.
Good is a smell, and
it smells like fervent 
leaps. That sounds like
the wild repetition of
the adjective deep. What
kind of water will we carry
for the future of our water?
Who said it was ours? How
many more hours will we 
bury? Was it a waste? Shall
we rhyme with haste? Play
the music, please. The breeze
is back for its trees. And we 
will dance around these logs,
shrieking and hallowing 
the former lives we glance.