I have twenty-four faces, it’s hard to believe. When you look at me I have sixteen vertices. Eight cubes when unfolded in this reality. Thirty-two edges is quite the sight to see.

I am born when nothing divides, yet found in all that lives and dies. I have no weight, but tip the scale, the silent glitch in every law. You seek to name me, but beware, to know me is to say I'm not there.

you ask of me all day long. while a guess, most people get it wrong. the answer is never the same, except twice a day.

Chaos reigns throughout my form, For randomness, I am the norm. A single twirl, and some despair while others laugh, and call me fair. I dance across a thousand tables I decide games, and sometimes fables.

I am not a lot, but I am something. Cut me into half and I am nothing. Turn me sideways and I am everything.