I’m held, not seen, yet often shared, I may be calm or strongly declared. I’m not a fact, though I may sound, I change depending who is around.

I blush in the sun though I’m born green, I’m soft as a fruit but in salads I’m seen. Slice me or sauce me, I brighten the plate - or serve as a tool to show audiences hate.

I have a spine, but no bones to break, I hold stories and knowledge, for goodness sake.

In galaxies far, a saga is told, of light and dark with sabers bold. A force unseen, battles unfold, where stars clash in stories old.

Silent guardian of words, resting on a shelf, unlocking a world of meanings, from A to Z it dwells. Need a spelling then come. And read thee