I sit on the crown where the roof meets the sky, A portal of glass looking endlessly high. I gather the sunlight to brighten your room, And swallow the stars as they chase away gloom.

Each day comes to an end with a magical goodbye, a spectacle of colors drifting down across the sky.

You may be driven or you may drive me, But neither vehicle nor sheep I be, Say me thrice with juice to summon a ghost, Or mispell me slightly and Tomorrow Never Knows

You can find me in abundance both where water is plentiful and where it is sparse. If you find me in your eye, you'll undoubtedly cry. My descent marks the passage of time. What am I?

Break out your dictionaries kids, that's what kind of riddle this is. A sticky situation brought on by bad decisions, no matter the choice, it's gonna get vicious.