Answer:
I can be written, I can be spoken, I can be exposed, I can be broken.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has hands; lacks a head but has a face.
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.
A caribbean shape that makes ships disappear
Sometimes black, sometimes white, I have veins but no blood
I fly to any foreign parts assisted by my spreading wings. My body holds an hundred hearts Nay I will tell you stranger things when I am not in haste I ride and then I mend my pace anon.