Answer:
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has handsΝΎ lacks a head but has a face.
Though easy to spot, when allowed to plume, It is hard to see, when held in a room.
My first is in some but not in all. My second is into but not in tall. My third in little but no in big. My fourth in port but not in pig. My whole is made in nature's way. For clothing, rugs used every day.
It is destruction made out of thin air, You hear it howl and give a prayer, Through barns and houses it will tear. It is a deadly funnel, Of violent and twisting air.
What liquid can contain the soul?
What is always coming but never arrives?