Answer:
Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen.
It's in your hand though you can not feel it. Only you and time can reveal it.
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.
I'm a god. I'm a planet. I measure heat.
What gets beaten, and whipped, but never cries?
What do angels sing in the shower?