I travel the world but never take a step. I carry your secrets, both tidy and a mess. I'm packed full of plans, yet I make none myself.

Six I contain, first half a cage, that protects what is vital, or a wet napped entree. Last half chefs say, before you engage, before a petit, twice confection of Le’. Together it sways, follows swung path you lay, or adorned on a gift, added to decorate.

Should I collapse, Steel yourself, For agony of defeat. Upon the brow, In burdened back, To each I come complete. In satin cast, Or climbing blooms, Devout peck, two shall meet.

I'm born of light, yet not alive, I stretch and shrink, but never strive. I mimic forms I cannot be, A silent twin that clings to thee. I vanish when the source is near What am I, always there yet unclear?

I bite the ocean floor, but never chew, clinging to earth beneath the blue. Though born of iron, I sleep in sand, holding giants with one hand.