By day, translucent, By night, opaque. May be colored to mint, Or may be brown like a rake. On metal rings, It hangs in the windy air, Often knocking down things, While a child whispers her prayer. The fabric glows …
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills, It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter. What is it?
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