Our Powers

You know you can't turn water into wine
Or raise the dead, so why should we believe
You're something no one normal would conceive?
All this barrage of "unto thee and thine"
And "live forevermore" sounds rather fine,
But nobody's convinced. It's my pet peeve,
This souls stuff. So what if, on Christmas Eve,
They buy it, and a recently dead pine?

A pagan suckled in a creed outworn?
Your creed is pretty shop-soiled, too,
A mishmash of bright lights and ballyhoo
Mocked up to celebrate the lost, love-lorn,
The loosely put together, and low-born.
I think we've all had quite enough of you.