I have a spine but no bones, ribs but no flesh. Born from folded stillness, I bloom when the sky weeps, only to wither back in to myself when the tears cease.

What has three letters and starts with gas.

Human’s creation, guided by space as we spin and ring around. Despite that, I am a source of stress, fear, and sadness as I fly by.

Toss to find me, Knock to keep me, Count four to lose me, Peer in glass to see me.

I hide in plain sight, reflecting your gaze, I’m quiet at dawn but dazzle in fragmented rays. I’m framed but not painted, held but not hugged, and when I’m cracked, your luck is undone.