Answer:
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust.
Some live in me, some live on. And some shave me to stride upon. I rarely leave my native land. Until my death I always stand. High and low I may be found. Both above and below ground.
The sharp slim blade, that cuts the wind. What is it?
Men have one, women two, and when they become family, itβs three. What is it?
What liquid can contain the soul?
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?