Deep in the lobe where the temple lies, I scan the world with invisible eyes. When a shadow looms or a floorboard creaks, I am the voice that silent peaks. An almond in shape, a sentry in soul, Your fight or flight is my main control.

A silent guide to paths unknown, where names and numbers intertwine like roads on a map, leading you to hidden places.

I am a shout, a sharp sound In American football, better get ready In the military, better pay attention I am also a humble house For the indigenous, traditional For the nomad, temporary What am I?

Floating symbol of peace, pure as a cloud, carrying olive branches from the heavens aloud.

Smooth operator in a bottle, I soothe sun's fiery kiss, and whisper comfort to parched skin, leaving a silky trace behind.