Like a stream of though, I can take multiple forms: In the physical world, I’m an artery for wildlife; In the world of ideas, oft do-I compare time or life; Yet, across the world, my meanings stay uniform.

I am vast, yet never enough. Between words and worlds, I part.

I am liquid on something solid, i'm tortuous and i can finish in two ways. I born in the montain and i die in the sea What am I?

I told you my name was a lie, But in fact that too was untrue, For spirits can dance, And you might chance a glance, In the night, if the lights prance for you

I own no address that appears on a map. I stay just long enough for faces to remember me, then I move on. My luggage is light, but my stories are heavy with distance. The road knows my footsteps better than any doorstep does. To some I am romantic, to others I am a nuisance. What word names the one who lives this way?