A saga of thought, a guess in disguise, where science dances on the edge of surprise, dreams of possibilities in her elegant robe, before truth's needle threads her globe.

A rich man needs it, a poor man has it, if we eat it, we die, and when we die, we bring it with us.

I sound like a dessert or bodily waste depending on how you pronounce me. I am important in geometry. I have a day named in my honor. I have a very famous specific set of numbers.

You can't see me but I'm here. I'm everywhere and although I'm weak, I can make even the smallest object deadly with enough space. I can even bend light itself. What am I?

For me time never passes, but yet the same instant that I'm born, I die