Answer:
We are all around, yet to us you are half blind. Sunlight makes us invisible, and difficult to find
Put into a pit, locked beneath a grate, guarded through the night, yet it still goes out.
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
It's like food but water kills it. What is it?
What kind of room has no windows or doors?
My days are numbered.