Answer:
I bind it and it walks. I loose it and it stops.
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
We are all around, yet to us you are half blind. Sunlight makes us invisible, and difficult to find.
What stays on the ground but never gets dirty?
Twigs and spheres and poles and plates. Join and bind to reason make.
Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it. But almost nobody takes it.