Answer:
As beautiful as the setting sun, as delicate as the morning dew. An angel's dusting from the stars. That can turn the Earth into a frosted moon.
Some live in me, some live on. And some shave me to stride upon. I rarely leave my native land. Until my death I always stand. High and low I may be found. Both above and below ground.
Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it. But almost nobody takes it.
It is a path of cow juice spread across the sky but cannot be seen by the naked eye
What lies in a tunnel of darkness. That can only attack when pulled back?
I have feet on my head