Answer:
What do you fill with empty hands?
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.
Ripped from my mother's womb. Beaten and burned, I become a blood thirsty killer.
My first is in wield, sever bones and marrow. My second is in blade, forged in cold steel. My third is an arbalest, and also in arrows. My fourth is in power, plunged through a shield. My fifth is in honor, and also in vows. My last will put an end to it all.
What gets closer when you blink?
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?