Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.

Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.

Other Difficult Riddles

The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.

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I crawl on the earth. And rise on a pillar.

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What do you have when you're sitting down that you don't have when you're standing up?

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Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.

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I am always hungry, I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.

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Riddle of the Day

May 14, 2026

What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?

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