I am high or low, quiet or loud. Without me it feels like nothings around. I come in waves but I don't live in the sea, I can echo or distort, what can i be? I can't be seen but you can sometimes feel me. Try my riddle and see if you beat me.

I am a forest that never stands still, Tamed by the blade or bent to your will. I whisper of age, of health, and of trend, Yet fall without warning, and grow back again.

Soft and sweet with secrets deep, A flower turned to fruit I keep. Though wasps may enter, none depart - I taste their toil, their birthing art

Add an A to this word to mean harshly spoken. When used in prose, the story goes, a wild one cannot be broken

I roar deeply, I quake, and billow black smoke, leaving ash in my wake. Though a dragon I am not, I reach for the sky and spit red flaming hot.