I am taken from a mine and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost every artist. What am I?

I cling without asking, I climb without sound, I wrap and I reach till your walls I have found. I’m green yet I’m cunning, in gardens I thrive, Guess what I am, ever creeping alive.

I move without legs, I strike without hands. I can split the sky And leave silence behind.

I am always running, yet I never move from my bed. I carve valleys, but I have no hands.

Through loss and Heartbreak i was forged by the trees. To help recover a man's emptiness within. In order to be made flesh I must show my humanity. If planted seeds of doubt, the tree will then grow.