My cradle is flame, my shroud is ash, yet from my end new wings I flash. No grave can hold me where I lie, what am I that cannot die?

I’m so excited bout this riddle that I’ve soiled myself

There once was a large prickly fellow, Who stood, arms up, in sand so yellow. 'I hold fresh water within, but protected by my spiney skin. So don't touch me or loudly you'll bellow.'

I have many layers but I’m not a tale, no tears like onions when I’m unveiled. Green and round, in gardens I grow, what am I you slice just so?

I am the hunger that is never fed, The itch that lives inside your head. I open doors that were meant to stay closed, And reveal the secrets that nature has posed. I am the Why? in a young child's eyes, The reason the foolish and the brilliant are allies.