Behold my size, I’m considered a God! A fatal taste of me and you may not grow old. I may be a gigantic blazing clod, or I may help in measures of the cold.

A capsule of memory, so silent and still, At home on the mantle, yet I may cause a chill. One who danced with the fire, now cold to the touch, I cradle what’s left, when there once was so much.

A hundred years ago these didn’t exist. Today they’re ubiquitous and here to assist. They help with so many tasks, there’s too many to list. While reading this riddle you’re using some form of one, do you get my gist?

Part of the year you will find me in death, while other parts I will be lively. I am known for how I ate some seeds.

Where buildings are without living people Where plants have taken control Where the silence can be disturbing, yet the voice of a stranger is even scarier