Answer:
I am always in front of you, but yet I am never here. What am I?
I donβt forget!
My second is performed by my first. A thief by the marks of my whole might be caught. What am I?
I am a mountain at night meadow at day
What is it that makes tears without sorrow. And takes its journey to heaven?
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.