Behold my size, I’m considered a God! A fatal taste of me and you may not grow old. I may be a gigantic blazing clod, or I may help in measures of the cold.

I can be an affordable meal to millions across the land. I can be a nuisance to millions of computers across the globe. What am I?

I am like a small village, forged of iron and stone, Though crowded together, all are alone. At the housewarming party, some shed a tear, But often forget the ones who moved here.

A capsule of memory, so silent and still, At home on the mantle, yet I may cause a chill. One who danced with the fire, now cold to the touch, I cradle what’s left, when there once was so much.

I prepare you for visitors and get you dressed, And try to make you look your best. Your greatest fear is my stock and trade, When you lose all is when I get paid.