I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air. What am I?
Only one color, but not one size.
Stuck at the bottom, yet I easily fly.
Present in sun, but not in rain.
Doing no harm, and feeling no pain.
What Am I?
Never was,
I am always to be.
No one ever saw me,
nor ever will.
And yet I am the confidence of all,
to live and breathe on this terrestrial ball.
What am I?