TUESDAY RODDLE

It cannot be seen, cannot be felt
cannot be heard, cannot be smelt
it lies behind stars and under hills
and empty holes it fills

AND…

Alive without breath,
as cold as death,
never thirsty,
ever drinking,
when tired, never winking.

AND…

I live above a star, and yet I never burn,
I have eleven neighbors, and yet none of them turn,
I am visited in sequence, first, last or in between,
PRS (& sometimes Q)are my initials, now tell me what I mean.

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