Answer:
I cannot be other than what I am, until the man who made me dies. Power and glory will fall to me finally. Only when he last closes his eyes.
Different lights do make me strange, thus into different sizes I will change
Power enough to smash ships and crush roofs. Yet it still must fear the sun.
Soft and fragile is my skin, I get my growth in mud. I’m dangerous as much as pretty, for if not careful, I draw blood.
What is it that makes tears without sorrow and takes its journey to heaven?
I have two bodies joined together as one. When standing still I run and run.