I can only go forward or backward, when liberated from my tracks. What am I?

I may be small, I may be tall, I live where raindrops barely fall. I hold my water, spines like lace, a prickly plant that owns its space.

I weave a world where fabric takes flight, With nimble dance and stitches so tight, What am I, crafting beauty with might?

I was once black and white Now I can be created instantly I am shared and saved All with just a click

I have no eyes nor ears from that of biology but can see and hear where there is no sound. I carrry a gold disc to compensate for my shortcomings. I have traveled for almost half a century to find a friend.