A barber knows me, beekeepers too. The phone in your pocket might surprise you, too.

I am born in a cherry, but I am not a fruit. I am roasted in fire, but I do not burn to ash. I am crushed to dust, drowned in water, and bled dry, Yet my sacrifice gives life to your morning.

Kick me, and you have reached the end of the road. Make my list, and adventures wait to unfold. Fill me, then lift with your knees, for I grow heavy with surprising ease.

If you click me repeatedly, I'll drive others insane, But I won't assist you in winning a computer game. I'm digital because of what holds me, And analog without wires to control me.

I am small yet I hold great control over spaces both near and far I do not speak yet I grant permission I can welcome you in or keep you out I often travel in pockets or bags and am easily lost causing stress and delay I come in many shapes but serve one simple purpose to open what is closed and secure what is not mine alone is not enough but in the right place I become powerful what am I