White crystals that make flavors bold, In oceans deep and mines of old, A pinch of me, your dish is sold, Without me, bland stories unfold.

A silent cloak of gray descends, a city’s breath it deftly blends, sun’s golden gaze it often mends, a hazy veil where vision bends.

At the start of an intro or the end of a line Fish might get caught on it while they dine With a curve and a point it draws them in And in writing it is there to make you listen

Among the four, I represent West. But I am king of the East, Engaged in eternal conflict with the dragon.

I am announced before I arrive, yet I still take many by surprise. I am given a human name, but no human can command me. I draw strength from warm oceans, and leave behind new shapes to familiar coasts. From far above, I look like a perfect spiral, but on the ground, I am anything but orderly. What am I?