I’m a house that melts if you think about it too hard.

I let you see, with no sight, the coast loves me, what a delight. Ships love to cross my way, the main objective is to get you on your way.

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.