Day after day they ask of me,
To categorize, describe, or define.
I say nay! For I cannot be,
Any shape with an outline.

I may be ragged, I may be clean;
Some say jagged; others say keen.
I can be nice, I can be mean,
I am of vice with virtues unseen.

I'm liquid moving, meandering,
Once I stop, I'm a solid thing.
At times I sit, anticipating,
Being gas, or vapor, dissipating.

At times I’m bold and all-pervading;
Others cold, to cower in fright.
At times I feel content in waiting;
Or see my patience flee from sight.

Who or what am I?
Why don’t you tell me!
I know I’m human to live and to die;
To be honest, that’s about all I can be.