Little Problem

Foot, head, or traces
Are on sandy soil their spirit level;
Their level is the length
Of foot on head we’ll be the time
In tracing
For a purpose (head to foot is head and foot,
No wit, is one),
That’ll make, it’s brittle, diaphragm
For use of sense, (no hurt no sense).
Foot head compressed,
It’s easy tracing what each gives the other
By toe or hair to common good,
(Good for can run 
And know why run),
Though, after’s done, I
See the reason for undoubling doubling not,
Unless for poetry, which, if it asks me
For a spirit, can
Run and know why
And know why know, no wit,
Can ever further,
Though no ask brings it
For a lazy sake that won’t create
But only plumb such depths
As you, Original, derive.