Answer:
You saw me where I never was and where I could not be. And yet within that very place, my face you often see.
Slayer of regrets, old and new, sought by many, found by few.
What weaves webs as they grow?
Crooked as a rainbow, and slick as a plate, Ten thousand horses can't pull it straight.
The moon is my father. The sea is my mother. I have a million brothers. I die when I reach land.
As round as an apple. As deep as a cup. All the king's horses can't pull it up.