Answer:
My second is performed by my first, and it is thought a thief by the marks of my whole might be caught.
Long and slinky like a trout, never sings till it's guts come out.
Searing 'cross the pitchΒ-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.
I am the hole in the night, the ever watchful eye. I return in a cycle, to enlighten the sky.
Describes a mysterious region and a stylish pair of shorts.
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?