Answer:
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?
What is it which builds things up? Lays mountains low? Dries up lakes, and makes things grow? Cares not a whim about your passing? And is like few other things, because it is everlasting?
We are all around, yet to us you are half blind. Sunlight makes us invisible, and difficult to find
Ten men's strength, ten men's length. Ten men can't break it, yet a young boy walks off with it.
Iām grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.