Being Of The World And Not In The World Has Its Share Of Peril Poem by Ted Sheridan

With only hours instead of days left in which to drag my body from the fire
I pause just long enough to take notice of my superficial scrapes and burns
As I lick my salvia thick tongue over my scorched and tightened lips
Inhaling though my nostrils the heated exhaust of a demonic breath
That tries as it may to possess my soul even as it fails to destroy my body’s flesh
Of its own exclusive desire to live beyond the pages of parables and sinful brink
Brought forth in a multitude of loaves of bread to eat and chalices of wine to drink
Provided to save you from your filthy selves
In remembrance of his power and his glory
But as for me
A lifelong nonbeliever
I have my own amends to make___