I drift in silence, pale and grand, a frozen form where oceans stand. Above the waves I gently gleam, below I’m larger than I seem.

I sit above your home but never touch the ground. I shield you from the rain, yet I’m not an umbrella. I’m found atop the Taj Mahal, but not on the Colosseum or the Great Wall of China. What am I?

Reaching for the heavens, a needle in the skyline, a steeple without the sermon, where winds whisper secrets to the sky.

I guard the sands where secrets sleep, With lion’s strength and wisdom deep. I ask no words, yet riddles cling, To ancient stone and silent wing. Part beast, part thought, part mythic link. Name me now, what do you think?

Somewhere in Europe Crowds loudly cheer For twenty-two men Chasing a sphere