What Am I?

The color of a sunset Or dawning of a day, I flow, but not in rivers, I run, but not away— Although once down the Nile I held the current’s course, And in the moon’s last hour I’ll be its shining source. I have no mouth for speaking And so make not one sound— Except my cry to heaven From righteous Abel’s ground. Of feast before the freedom Of slaves, I was a rite, To paint me on their doorposts Would keep them safe that night. I filled the bowls and basins, As temple vessels...