Round as the moon but fits on a finger, Golden and precious, in pockets I linger. What's in my pocket, the hobbits trick What circles and binds with power so thick?

I have a magic box, inside it you can see: the past, the present, the truth and the imaginary. It sits upon a wooden throne so everyone can share, but don’t stare at it too much, or else your eyes just might turn square.

Beware of me, for I will shoot, But trust me well, I mean no brute. I will capture you and all you do, And keep you safe for others to view.

I live in a box but am never locked, I’m often drowned but never die, I crunch but have no bones

A box without hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid.