Answer:
Dies half its life. Lives the rest. Dances without music. Breathes without breath.
You saw me where I never was and where I could not be. And yet within that very place, my face you often see.
Who spends the day at the window, goes to the table for meals. And hides at night?
It is a part of us, and then replaced. It escapes out bodies, to a better place. The world becomes its sizeable home. Its passions unrestraint, the planet it roams.
What gets closer when you blink?
Why was the cook arrested?