Answer:
To cross the water I'm the way, for water I'm above. I touch it not and, truth to say, I neither swim nor move.
I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate. Yet I have my own style of music.
All about the house, with his lady he dances, yet he always works, and never romances.
A circle of stones, never in rows. Stacked one on the other, mystery it sows. What is it?
The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it, never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that heβs using it.
I can only be played on a windy day