Answer:
I get wet when drying. I get dirty when wiping.
Sometimes dark and sometimes bright I make my way among twinkling lights. Seas and oceans obey my call yet mountains I cannot move at all. My face is marred and gray But I'm majestic anyway
I am a cold man without a soul. If there is warmth in me, it slowly will kill me. What am I?
I am drawn by everyone without pen or pencil. What am I?
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?