I look like ground but act like glue, each struggle only pulls you through. In mud or plans, I slow desire, step once in me, and you may tire.

I am a shadow of the world, yet all can see me clear. I show what stands before me, but nothing that is near. Some swear they glimpse their soul when gazing at my face, Yet try to cross my surface, and you’ll never change your place.

Without my first, I cover shiny skulls. Without my first and second, I'm an abbreviation, I guess. And as a whole, I'm a small, young part of the lungs of the world.

The more nonsensical I am, the better I work Once broken , I'm useless

I can be found at the bottom of a fleet, Or discarded from the corn you eat. I am the frame that keeps out the sea, Or the husk left behind for all to see. What am I?