Answer:
The stack just might be sent all over. Full of what's new, yet it's nearly obsolete.
They made me a mouth, but didn't give me breath. Water gives me life, but the sun brings me death.
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
What relies on columns but isn't a house, and asks for help but can't speak itself?
The older they are the less wrinkles they have.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.