For thousands of years,
Seen only in tale.
The wind as a sail,
For one thunderous gale.
Shiny stores rich in lore,
The burning temper, like Earth's core.
What am I?
With pointed fangs I sit and wait; with piercing force I crunch out fate; grabbing victims, proclaiming might; physically joining with a single bite. What am I?
I sometimes come in a can but I'm not food.
I sometimes come in a bottle but I'm not a beverage.
I come in different colors but I'm not a rainbow.
I'm sometimes used with canvas but I'm not a tent.
I'm used with a brush but I'm not toothpaste.
What Am I?