Mischief and mystery wrapped in my feathers, A harbinger of doom in shadows and weather. My presence speaks in legends and lore, A teller of fate and secrets - nevermore.

I reach for the sky with a needle of stone, Born from a base, yet I stand all alone. Not quite a tower, but aiming up higher, A peak with a purpose, slim, sharp, and dire. Churches and castles wear me with pride - What am I called when I upwardly rise?

My points are fixed, and yet you find me in constant motion, I wheel and spin in an endless dance, As awe inspiring as your oceans. A teller of time, a spinner of fates, I'll guide you home, or define your traits. By the time you see me, I am years ahead, I gift you gold after my soul has fled.

Plucked out of birds, I am now dipped in ink and used to write

I have no eyes nor ears from that of biology but can see and hear where there is no sound. I carrry a gold disc to compensate for my shortcomings. I have traveled for almost half a century to find a friend.