I’m a wound the earth remembers, Carved by patience, time, and flow. People marvel at my great expanse, With echoes down below. Though I’m empty, life surrounds me; My layers, they run deep. I am a place the river founded, Millions of secrets I do keep.

What runs towards the bank and along it, only to run away from it?

Molded in fire, I'm almost alive, I'm what's left when the bright flames fails to survive, Once I was solid, with purpose and form, Now I’m the quiet that follows the storm. From me you began, to me you return, Dust to dust - what all things earn.

I glow long after the blaze has died, A whisper of warmth you cannot hide. Hold me close for I am small With just a breath, again, I'll heat your hall.

Brightly lit by nighttime’s light, a reflection off one of our two current satellites, as the light hits the liquid, it reflects skyward, and reflections from the sun come down. This word comes second, five letters in total: what is a way to describe a bright reflection? Put together, the combination is illegal, though really just means homemade booze.