Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
A box without hinges, lock or key, yet golden treasure lies within.
Where do you go in through one hole and come out through two holes at the same time?
In we go, out we go. All around and in a row. Always, always steady flow. When we'll stop, you'll never known. In we go, out we go.
What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?
I'm the source of all emotion but I'm caged in a white prison.