Answer:
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
Through its wounds, water does run. It once held many but now has none. What is it?
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.
What turns from red to black as soon as it touches water?
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills And empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter.
What did the grape do when he got stepped on?