Answer:
When it comes to me, you go on red and stops on green. What am I?
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
I am longer than a decade and shorter than a millennium
I am a box who holds keys but not locks. With the right combination I may unlock your soul
Draw fire or fill me; I'm still empty.
I go up and never come down no matter how hard you wish. As I get higher, more wrinkles crawl on to the face. What am I?