I dwell where roots begin to grow, And mark where tales no longer flow. First in the forest, last on the page; What am I, in nature and in sage?

Ancient beasts that thundered the earth, now just echoes in time's vast chasm. Bones tell tales of a world untamed, roaming giants from eons past.

I grow taller without roots or rain. You see me rise, yet I feel no pain. I vanish fast with a single blow.

I'm still in my early stages. Fully grown? I am not. Take away my center, and I become molten hot.

Named for a beauty of old Rome am I, My feet in the earth, my face to the sky. I live with no mind, with no heart, with no breath, But those I devour will know darkness, then death.