I chased pure gold in lead and stone, with signs and seals in tongues unknown. I failed the prize that made me famed, yet mastered change and earned my name.

I joined a girl and her dog, on a brick laden road, all to find her way home. My own goals were smart, though I didn't figure that out, until someone told me directly. Who am I, a nine letter word, that generally is not a pronoun?

Found in houses of God, I carry on the breath. Rarely am I used for weddings, More common when mourning after death. The oldest of me are rooted in tradition, Harmonies of gratitude, or expressions of contrition. What am I?

four to start, a pretend bout, in the ring, where you are just practicing. punches light, though still delight, this session is just to train. last three go together, in a streak, as an example, for a winning sports team, as they win more than one back-to-back. add them together, a small little songbird, who’s been with humanity since the Stone Age.

With me, there shall be no incompleteness Traces I left behind are not signs of imperfect, but rather a mark of the past. They are not weaknesses, but the reason things exist until today.