I am never still, yet I go nowhere. I cover more than half the world, yet fit in no map's margin. I hold the sky's reflection but own no mirror. Kings have crossed me, none have conquered me yet. What am I?

I am spun before the wings take flight, a fragile cradle wrapped in white. Yet from those threads, so soft and fine, are woven garments fit to shine.

I’m like a rattle for cattle Lots of people seem to want more, more, more.

When fire fades, I often stay, a powder pale and soft as clay. Yet from my bed, so tales convey, a phoenix may be reborn one day.

I swim in the ocean and I cause a commotion. All because I'm so awesome, and i'm like an underwater unicorn. What am I?