Answer:
You eat something you neither plant nor plow. It is the son of water, but if water touches it, it dies.
As light as a feather, but you canβt hold it for ten minutes.
Screaming, soaring seeking sky. Flowers of fire flying high, Eastern art from ancient time, Name me now and solve this rhyme.
Thirty white horses on a red hill, First they champ, Then they stamp, Then they stand still.
I count time, but have no end. Tick tick, but I am not a clock. What am I?
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.