Foothold

We live in our pedestrian thoughts Freed only by our dreams, Hell isn't a furnace, it's-a-quagmire We sink into daily struggles. It seeps through our toes quietly, And creeps above our knees; It paralyses us from doing good. Being better than the degenerate forms We say we care to love. We plead for forgiveness- Only to gaze into the empty abyss Of each other's hearts, looking for A foothold, a place to rest, Foundations a house can be built. We denigrate each other Till every step is perilous- Or else, with luck, we find some firm footing And cling on for our dear lives.