Answer:
Half-way up the hill, I see you at last, lying beneath me with your sounds and sights. A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.
What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?
A dagger thrust at my own heart, dictates the way I'm swayed. Left I stand, and right I yield, to the twisting of the blade.
What do you fill with empty hands?
This only turns over once you have traveled very far. What is it?
If itβs information you seek, come and see me. If itβs pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. What am I?