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?
I look flat, but I am deep,
Hidden realms I shelter.
Lives I take, but food I offer.
At times I am beautiful.
I can be calm, angry and turbulent.
I have no heart, but offer pleasure as well as death.
No man can own me, yet I encompass what all men must have.