I am never quite what I appear to be. Straight-forward I seem, but it's only skin deep, for mystery most often lies beneath my simple speech. Sharpen your wits, open your eyes, look beyond my exteriors, read me backwards, forwards, upside down. Think critically and answer the question. What am I?
I am black of eye and bright of hair. I fast in to the ground and follow my lord as he races around the world. What am I?
It cannot be seen, can not be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelled.
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.
I am at the beginning of all things.
I am at the end of eternity.
There is but one path from my beginning to my end.
My whole embodies indifference.
What am I?
Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking.
