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

Stubborn souls choose to die on me, a movie title claims I see, a famous song named after me, I seem to roll endlessly.

To move somewhere especially quick, Or an animal’s foot that is protectively thick.

If you want a flower, I'm not quite there yet But with light, you might get there soon I'm your pal you know

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