Answer:
I march before armies, a thousand salute me. My fall can bring victory, but no one would shoot me. What am I?
What is it that after you take away the whole some still remains?
I destroy your home from the inside out.
In many hall ways you would stand if not with me in hand.
Sometimes I fly as fast as the speed of light. Sometime I crawl as slow as a snail. Unknown until I am measured but you will certainly miss me when Iām gone.
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.