Answer:
What is the thing which, once poured out, cannot be gathered again?
It comes only before, it comes only after. Rises only in darkness, but rises only in light. It is always the same, but is yet always different.
I have split the one into five. I am the circle that few will spy. I am the path that breaks and gives. I am the bow no man may bend.
Break it and it is better, immediately set and harder to break again
Two little holes in the side of a hill. Just as you come to the cherry-red mill.
Black we are and much admired. Many seek us if they are tired. We tire the horse, and comfort man, and turn White when we've fulfilled your plan.