Answer:
An open ended barrel, it is shaped like a hive. It is filled with the flesh, and the flesh is alive!
It is sometimes known to have silver linings.
A circle of stones, never in rows. Stacked one on the other, mystery it sows. What is it?
What goes through the door without pinching itself? What sits on the stove without burning itself? What sits on the table and is not ashamed?
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
I can only be played on a windy day