Dances around me, never touching. Infrequent visits, such big leaps. Over fifty years since our last, yet I see you before I dream.

I am used to measure and conquer, but I am not used to cut bread or make butter. You can find me in in a castle, a pencil case and a parliament .

Eos with her celestial torch scorches the heavens with its flame. A spectacle of vibrant hues containing marks of crimson and gold heralding a new beginning, but I am a fleeting masterpiece eventually devoured by the light.

I sought to hold the morning sun, to claim its brilliance as my own. Yet warmth turned cold in what I won, and hunger chilled my gilded throne. Who am I?

I left no breath, no sound, no cry, Yet linger still where eons lie. Not born of ink, yet shaped in lore, pressed deep beneath the rocky floor. No mind recalls the form I cast, Yet stone remembers what could not last.