Answer:
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
A muttered rumble was heard from the pen, and I, in my walking stopped to look in. What was this I saw? A massive beast, hoofed, and jawed. With spikes upon its mighty brow, I watched as he struck the turf and prowled. And yet for all of his magnificence, he couldn't get out of that wooden fence.
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
What gets wet while drying?
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
I touch the Earth, I touch the sky, but if I touch you, you’ll likely die. What am I?