Answer:
When you stop and look, you can always see me. If you try to touch, you cannot feel me. I cannot move, but as you near me, I will move away from you. What am I?
I am partially baked. I am not completely lit. I am a portion of the moon. I am lesser than full wit. I am a divider of the hour. I am not a total lie. I am a sibling through one parent.
I am the black child of a white father a wingless bird flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me even though there is no cause for grief and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
Adored by few, feared and hated by many. Mistress of the entire universal reason, master in the art of numbers. Some may have solved many of my mysteries, but there are still many of them to find. What am I?
Things here are usually tagged with red stickers.
What is always coming but never arrives?