When the Homily is about Immunology

Prune me, cut me back, collar me and tether me to a stake.
Freedoms, once fancied vital, smother the life in me.
I am left whirl-winding in sensory self-pleasure, itching ears satiated.

Prune me, cut me back, collar me and tether me to a stake.
Mind and heart gamely stretch forth like many branches, ever-seeking sustenance.
But behold, through this voluminous multiplicity itself, the harvest withers.

Prune me, cut me back, collar me and tether me to a stake.
Bury the stake deep – hundreds of centuries – touching the soul of the past.
And secure me to that ancient conduit through which life flows.