Answer:
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
What can't you see, hear or feel, until its too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
What gets wetter as it dries?
My first is a creature whose breeding is unclear. My second, a price you must pay. My whole can be found in the river of Time and refers to events of today.
What is the freedom of birds and the pen of old men?
I appear in the morning. But am always there. You can never see me. Though I am everywhere. By night I am gone, though I sometimes never was. Nothing can defeat me. But I am easily gone.