Finger of stone Pointing up high Four sides not more A witness of time

you know. ................. .Boil them mash them stick them in a Stew

I was born in dirt then ripped away, and handed off, his heart on display. Placed on a ledge to show off my beauty, left here to rot for this is my duty. As time drags on, my color she admires, until my head droops and my life expires.

I once moved empires without a sword, crossed oceans in a wooden horde. A pinch of me can wake the tongue, old wars were fought when I was young.

I sit above what you use to see, Yet I’m not part of vision. I reveal your tension before you speak, And I mark your years without asking. You touch me when you think, Though I do no thinking myself. What am I?