I hold the world's greatest tales, yet have no voice, My depths conceal treasures, a boundless, watery choice.

More state of mind than physical place, this is where all troubles erase. Associated with the number nine, what is this surface, so fluffy and fine?

I hold the stars yet weigh no thing, no walls, no floor, no edge, no ring. I stretch beyond what minds can trace, a silent, endless, darkened place. No air to breathe, no sound to hear, yet all you know is resting here. I cradle worlds that drift and race, a boundless void none can embrace

A house made of glass or net To hold our feathered friends the best And yet, despair! To their dismay... It's just another, larger, cage.

In the garden, I'm a knight cloaked in royal hues, with a soft heart and versatile nature, loved in kitchens worldwide, yet I'm not a king's fruit.