Baby Tree Rubedo gleams,
Final act in alchemic dreams.
Though spectators shield their gaze,
Blinded by its piercing rays,
From the flame, a whisper calls.
Like the bush aflame yet whole,
It sears the eye but saves the soul.
Observers blink in stark surprise,
While the inferno purifies.
In blinding burst, a riddle solved,
Around which ancient tales revolve.
