Answer:
As light as a feather, but you canβt hold it for ten minutes.
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
Without a bridle, or a saddle, across a thing I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see.
Who spends the day at the window, goes to the table for meals. And hides at night?
Looks like water, but it's heat. Sits on sand, lays on concrete. A play on the eyes, but it's all lies.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?