A quick dance of blades, a whisper through fabric, leaving behind a mark that speaks more than it says.

I'm a golden bloom, a radiant drop, Found where shadows cling, never stop. I banish the gloom, a sunlit decree, But to speak my true name requires utmost decree. What am I?

one of three, in part of the count. taking all ten, with a single throw. done to a match, to get it lit. shaking hands, due to finalizing a deal. walking out on work, to afford to live.

Cycle my central letter through every other vowel, and I become A prelude to an excuse Small A lifeless redditor Swinged and winged I'm spoken to sound certain, but my essense lies in uncertainty

In the quiet moments, it softly creeps, A gentle hush where the world sleeps. A tranquil breeze in a storm's release, Found within when wars and chaos cease.