Riddle #594

Pronounced as one letter, And written with three, Two letters there are, And two only in me. I’m double, I’m single, I’m black blue and gray, I’m read from both ends, And the same either way.

Glittering points That downward thrust, Sparkling spears That never rust.

Die without me, Never thank me. Walk right through me, Never feel me. Always watching, Never speaking. Always lurking, Never seen.

Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, Then they stamp, Then they stand still. Who are they?

Branches grow on its head; it wears spotted clothes. Not a donkey of a horse, it runs like the wind.

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?

Alive as you but without breath, As cold in my life as in my death; Never a thirst though I always drink, Dressed in a mail but never a clink.

It can be cracked, it can be made, It can be told, it can be played. What is it?

To you, rude would I never be, Though I flag my tongue for all to see. What am I?

I go around in circles, but always go straight ahead. I never ever complain, no matter where I am lead

I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place.