Answer:
I have legs but walk not, a strong back but work not. Two good arms but reach not. A seat but sit and tarry not.
Whiling away the hours of flowers, Walking through fields of gold. Preening and pruning in lights fading hours, For petals to freeze in the cold. What is it?
I cut through evil like a double edged sword, and chaos flees at my approach. Balance I single-handedly upraise, through battles fought with heart and mind, instead of with my gaze.
What can't you see, hear or feel, until its too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
The weapon of choice to create the biggest shock.
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?