I have a round top called a head, But no eyes, no nose, and no bread. When you strike me, I make a beat, My sound gets people on their feet. What am I?

I am at the very edge, a tiny helping hint. I am a handful of pennies given to one who serves. Five of me sit upon each hand.

I am a guardian, silent and tall. I watch over streets, but I don’t walk at all. By night I glow, though I know no fire, guiding those along their path to their intended desire.

In tiny worlds of make-believe, I stand still yet live. Painted eyes that see no more, soft embrace with hearts to give.

I can start a fire, Or flash from a wire. If you want to make your mark, You'll need a big idea, inspired by a blank. What am I?