I dance in the stars, yet weigh next to nothing. I can lift up your voice, making it squeaky and high. I can be found deep in the earth, where secrets lie. I cool down machines, to temperatures untold, used in the process to make MRI’s bold.

A vast botanical site, hosting both pollinators and people, what a delight! Some versions of me are aesthetically pleasing, while others have a functional reasoning, bringing about a bounty at harvest.

A thing unused, a spot of tea A coin produced, but some make me Of garden run, I, pests repel And some may use me in their spells

From time to time I break banks, but I am no thief. Where I meet my betters, a homonym of wealth, and where there many of me, a pooling of resources. If I appear still, beware. What am I?

I am a fleeting veil, born where worlds collide. Clad in light’s shattered vows, I flee when sought. What am I?