My first three are sleep’s restless, darting stage, My last five burn softly, past fire’s dim cage. Bind them as one, both spark and slumber, I am the word that recalls every wonder.

My first half sizzles and crackles with heat, My second is gone, or a truth you repeat. Join them together, the story is plain; A fire snuffed out and a tired brain.

I am the ghost of morsel's past, invisible to the naked eye. Every time you let me pass, you swear that something died.

I am deadly to consume, but you may find me in a traditional home. when a certain skeleton saw me in this traditional way he became perplexed, what am I?

I steal a moment from its first show, Dress it in new light, and let it go. No byline needed for what I host, Whisper my name, I am