Answer:
I am made by nature soft as silk; A puffy cloud white as milk; Snow tops this tropical crop; The dirtiest part of a mop.
I run smoother than any rhyme, I love to fall but cannot climb. What am I?
What can you break even if you never pick it up or touch it?
What is light as a feather but even the strongest man cannot hold it for more than a few minutes?
I'm the source of all emotion but I'm caged in a white prison.
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.