I dance across a blank white space, colours bloom where I embrace. Bristles at hand, imagination’s rush, what am I that makes the canvas blush?

It's a fire? No, it's a stone What is it?

I can be a children's toy or an instrument in the professional league, Either way, both can cause auditory fatigue.

I speak without a mouth, I travel without feet, I mimic what you say, Yet we will never meet.

A continuous flow of water or mud, but also of series, movies and whatnot.