I’m narrow, I’m nimble, I cut through the tide, with paddle in hand, a lone rider glides. I read the same forward as I do behind, what am I that floats on waves so wide?

I shoot but I don't kill, What I capture is moving still, I often stand between lights and action!

I place with care, Harden with time, Begin the scene, Disappear at dusk. What word am I?

I’m spun from sheep or spun from air, I warm your hands or fill a chair. I knit the truth, I twist the lie, I wrap a tale as time goes by. Pulled apart, I still return. What ties your fingers, story, and burn?

It cannot be seen, it cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, Lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. Comes first follows after, Ends life kills laughter.