All roads led to me Except they favor Rome Without me food is bland I’m what you sprinkle on life

Buried deep where ages lie, I watched the countless years go by. No breath I take, no voice I own, for now I’m cast in hardened stone.

Cold, yet I carry fire inside. My wound becomes your light. Older than the blade beside, I sharpened every ancient fight. Break me: I only grow more keen. The coldest fire ever seen.

In creamy dreams and frosty nights, a pure delight in simple sights. A gentle blend in every swirl, a classic choice in dessert's whirl.

Witnesses swear they saw a head, Round and full, or so they said. But once the suspect was cut apart, No brain, no thoughts, no central part. What was the head?