Answer:
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
I can be moved. I can be rolled. But nothing will I hold. I'm red and I'm blue, and I can be other colors too. Having no head, though similar in shape. I have no eyes - yet move all over the place.
As I walked along the path I saw something with four fingers and one thumb, but it was not flesh, fish, bone or fowl.
I am a box that holds keys without locks, yet they can unlock your soul.
I cannot be other than what I am, until the man who made me dies. Power and glory will fall to me finally. Only when he last closes his eyes.
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?