A full lunar cycle I last, Can't eat or drink while the Sun is cast, Easy? Try it, you'll change your tune, My harbinger is the crescent Moon

I rise from desert sands, Older than most lands. Wide at my feet, Pointed at the sky. Built for kings who never die. What am I?

Hark! Dost thou seek the silent sage, Who whispers wisdom from the page? A kingdom bound in leather's clasp, Where ancient tales are thine to grasp.

When your Tuesday is fat, you let it all hang out before giving up whatever brings you joy for the next forty days.