Messianic curse

Day 27 of NaPoWriMo. Today is a "duplex," a form of sonnet with plenty of echoed lines - not straight up repetition, though, until the very end. 

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A chain link is only as good as the next in line, 

and our unity suffers for those broken we take in.

     The lie of unity pulls like an elderly, struggling engine,

     puttering smoke as the treads of hope and progress fail.

Smoke billows from the corpse of the future,

dancing ghosts mock our piety and ardent poise.

     They burned our piety at the stake, the damned skeptics,

     the fat of our steadfastness crackling in their sneering mouths.

Real treasures went first to the fattest animals,

grossly sedentary, but with rabid armies at their feet.

 

     The hordes departed and left us bloodied, wounded - 

     where now do we seek our champion, the unbound hero?

Until the fanfare, the champion's call, stay sharp - 

a chain link is only as good as the next in line.