Answer:
Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover. And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover. I'm high, and I'm low, though flat in the middle. And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.
Sometimes I am loud. And viewed with distaste. Poke out my 'eye', then I'm on the front of your face.
The sharp slim blade, that cuts the wind. What is it?
Screaming, soaring seeking sky. Flowers of fire flying high. Eastern art from ancient time. Name me now and solve this rhyme.
Feed me and I live, give me drink and I die.
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.