A strand of hair, a candle's dying breath, a flicker, a sliver of all that's left. Like a whisper, I'm barely there, a half faded memory, a wing and a prayer.

I’m a simple thing, yet strength I lend, With little effort, great force I send. Push me down or pull me near, I make heavy work seem less severe.

I can represent a number, or a Generation, or a crossing, or a kiss. What am I?

I'm the reason a child asks Why? The name of the rover sent to the sky. The classic excuse for the fate of the cat, And the reason Pandora unlocked where it sat. What am I?

There's a song about them in Babylon. Just take one, like Proud Mary rolling on. Though made of tears, Justin is long gone.