The Sacred Tree

As the faeries fly to the Sacred Tree, Some say, "Could it be the Great Prophecy?" A gem lost long ago, Could it be so? "As love is love, A touch is gentle as a dove, Who can grow the Golden Flower, But you only have an hour. A heart so pure, Can be the only cure." A brave soul steps up, With only water in a cup. While others laughed before, She gently tips the cup and pours. Then she sang a sweet song, For that was the cure all along.