Adored by few, Feared and hated by many. Mistress of the entire universal reason, Master in the art of numbers. Some may have solved many of your mysteries, But there still much of them to find. What are they?
I am, in truth, a yellow fork From tables in the sky By inadvertent fingers dropped The awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed And never quite concealed The apparatus of the dark To ignorance revealed.
My head and tail both equal are, My middle slender as a bee. Whether I stand on head or heel Is quite the same to you or me. But if my head should be cut off, The matter's true, though passing strange Directly I to nothing change.
I talk, but I do not speak my mind I hear words, but I do not listen to thoughts When I wake, all see me When I sleep, all hear me Many heads are on my shoulders Many hands are at my feet The strongest steel cannot break my visage But the softest whisper can destroy me The quietest whimper can be heard.
Black and Blue. Red and Green. Yellow and Blue. Green and Grey. I am all colours. You can try to get close to me, but you can't escape my vision. If you get greedy, you will try to take your colours for yourself, but before you know it, I will be eating you for lunch. What am I?