In frames of fashion, I find my place, a window to the world, a vision's embrace. I highlight wonders, grand and small, a sight to behold, I reveal it all.

I can follow every command you give me, but I have no brain of my own. I have arms, but cannot hug. What am I?

Where feet tread and dance, a sturdy stage, Holding the weight of all who engage. On me, worlds are built and dreams soar, Yet I'm just beneath your daily chore.

I can be kept, I can be broken, I am mightier than any sword, and yet, add one letter to me, and a sword is exactly what you’ll find. Now, then, what am I?

Treading ground. Spoken round. Chain bound. Coasting sound.