Answer:
Three lives have I. Gentle enough to soothe the skin. Light enough to caress the sky. Hard enough to crack rocks.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
If a man carried my burden, he would break his back. I am not rich, but leave silver in my track.
My tongue hangs out as I run over fields and streets all day. I get tied up every morning and untied at night.
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?