Answer:
In the middle of night, I surround the gong. In the middle of sight, I end the song
It is something you will never see again.
What must you give before you can keep it?
I cannot be felt, seen or touched; Yet I can be found in everybody; My existence is always in debate; Yet there is a style of music named after me.
What is it that leaps and runs and yet, has no feet?
I am a room that has a roof but no walls. What am I?