What can run but never walk, have a mouth but never talk, have a head that never weeps, and a bed that never sleeps?

I’m written in lights on velvet night, A scattered story, stitched in sight. I guide lost sailors, name the skies, In ancient tales and modern eyes. Not one bright spark, but many combined, What am I, mapped by humankind?

Torrential downpour, Thundering call, Diving to crash, After wall

In circuits of nature, where life does commence, a narrow path winds, where streams make sense. An organic valley, carved with precision, a tranquil chip in earth's grand vision. I have one last thing to tell, It can also be a proper name for a male.

Beneath the waves, a metallic leviathan glides, hidden from prying eyes. Armed and silent, it navigates the deep blue void, a technological ghost in the oceanic night.