Answer:
Every night I'm told what to do and each morning I do what I'm told. But I still don't escape your scold
I move without wings, between silken strings. I leave as you find my substance behind. What am I?
People need me yet they give me away every day.
By Moon or by Sun I shall be found. Yet I am undone if there's no light around.
Four fingers and a thumb, yet flesh and blood I have none. What am I?
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.