When fire fades, I often stay, a powder pale and soft as clay. Yet from my bed, so tales convey, a phoenix may be reborn one day.

I leap but have no legs, I glow but have no soul, I die with a single breath.

What do Alexander the Great and Winnie the Pooh have in common?

I'm made for you, if you don't make me. If you regret me, you can't shake off my weight. If unsure of me, to sleep you take me. Will I be guided by impulse or deliberation?

If cells surfed, or had hands to greet you with from afar, You could say they catch or do this.