Som'lorea

Lighter than air, I go rushing around; 
Lighter than light, I am not in the ground.  
Deeper than deep, I am found with the living;  
Can you go sleep, that I'll cease from my giving? 

Fell with the fall like a tree that has rotten;  
This is my form, though it will be forgotten.  
Ten troubles come, and then they must go;  
Nine will remain, yet not with the slow. 

The dead, the dead, go look on the dead;  
They rest, they rest from all that is said. 
Troubled they come, and troubled they go;  
The living live lives with little to show. 

Who can go build with laboring hands 
Many great things like the vast sands? 
Far to the east and farther than west, 
Out of me, came all that is blessed. 

I live among kings, though never come dressed;  
They look after me to know what is best. 
Wise is my son, though he is not I; 
Fools seek me too, but barely walk by. 

I am, I am the light of the mind; 
I give to all, to all of mankind.