I’m traded in whispers, yet weigh nothing at all. I can build up a crown or make kingdoms fall. I travel the fastest when mouths move with ease, and I grow even louder on just one more, please.

Four panels are all you need to see me. Mere lines can be used to distinguish me, as I have been burned into the minds of many. I represent a tragedy, but I have become a comedy. What am I?

I’m movement that is quick, irregular, like a burst. I’m what a flame does, when there’s a breeze you curse. Emotions that show on the face, very briefly, so fast that you question if they were there at all. A glimmer, a glimpse, a blink and you miss, unable to decipher the meaning, however small.

I mostly keep things to myself, but I have my occasional violent outbursts. Yet you tolerate them, a spectacle that is revitalizing for you, you say? I'm doomed to repeat this cycle. Drowning in my own incapacity

To place or to seat, Of a fowl, to warm. A ready your feet, or for numbers, a swarm. To duck 'neath the ground, for great lights above, Satisfaction, one's found, for their race, or their love.