Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it, never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that heβs using it.
When it comes in, From sea to shore, Twenty paces you'll see, No less, no more.
They're up near the sky, on something very tall. Sometimes they die, only then do they fall.
My first is a creature whose breeding is unclear. My second, a price you must pay. My whole can be found in the river of Time and refers to events of today.
Keep doing me to avoid lens dryness