Answer:
Until I am measured I am not known, Yet how you miss me when I have flown.
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
What can be underwater, under fire, on fire and taking water all at the same time?
I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate. Yet I have my own style of music.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?