Sadly, it can't fry rice. It has cousins who are lice.

No feet, yet every path I pace. No crown, yet every king I grace. I flee no chase, yet none draw near. I mark each age, though dissapear. The more I’m faced, the less I’m known. Without my gift, no shade is shown. What am i?

Latin that refers to earth forms the base of this words birth. Home to plants this dome contains an ecosystem that needs no rains.

Tiny lamp in night, A fleeting spark, a silent gleam, Nature's own lantern.

I am the footprint of a falling drop, growing larger long after it stops.