I am a message that no pen has written, A voice from the past, but one you can hear. I take up no space, yet can fill a box, kept or discarded, year after year. What am I?

I fall from cans in silver streams, To wake up roots and feed their dreams. In gardens, fields, and pots I sing, Life awakens when I bring. Too little, plants begin to fade, Too much, and muddy mess is made. What am I, that nourishing thing, But make sure you add your ing.

Greetings riddlers! I made a new riddle, and I think... you will... really... like... ... ... ... zzzzz

I have no mouth, but I claim every secret. I am the only thing you can’t see in the dark, yet I am always there. If you say my name, I vanish. To have me is to own the world; to break me is to start a war. What am I? Seven letters

Multiple of me could be heard as looking. I can be high or low. Remove my second to greet royalty, remove my first to have stern words. I am most commonly prefaced by me and myself.