I speak without a mouth, I reply when you shout, I chase every sound as it wanders about. In caves I grow loud, in rooms I stay low. I mimic your words but I’m not who you know. Clap once, I answer twice; chase me fast or slow.

I’m long, I’m royal, and I’m held with pride, A firm little symbol kings keep by their side. I’m stroked, I’m polished, I’m raised when they’re bold. What am I?

No need to fight to hear it, though it’s like a rumble of the broncs. It’s a sound felt here: in spirit, like a grumble from guts’ atop. It pairs with strikes, some fear it, slowly fading to a stop. Count down to this sound, natures rage is found, anger the gods, hear their stomp.

Riddle me this Riddle me that You'll resort to me when you aren't exact. In movies where the heroes life is on the line. They'll use me to to build tension almost every time. Is it the red wire or is it the blue? Time is ticking What will you do?

Fire in my heart, not of courage nor love. Events of dangerous unpredictability bring me. Am I a curse or a blessing? Righteous ones take me as a warning.