Answer:
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams dreamt, my merest touch brings laughter.
If I have it, I don't share it. If I share it, I don't have it. What is it?
In this place, people lie, people cry, and people ask why. In this place, people sleep, people weep, and people's solitude, they keep. What is it?
What looks back but cannot see?
I went to the woods and got it, when i got it didn’t want it, looked for it, couldn’t find it so I took it home.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?