Riddle Me This?

I have no voice, yet I roar in the storm.

I have no body, yet I carve canyons in form.

I have no hands, yet I sculpt mountains so grand.

I have no feet, yet I travel across every land.

I am the cradle of life, the source of all tears,

I quench the parched throat and vanish through fears.

I am the mirror reflecting the sun's golden ray,

But a single touch, and I slip silently away.

I am gentle as dew, a whisper in the night,

But unleash my fury, and cities take flight.

I wear a million faces, a canvas so vast,

From crystal clear lakes to glaciers that hold the past.

I am the sculptor's clay, the artist's delight,

Reflecting the moon in the stillness of night.

I am the farmer's hope, the lifeblood of trees,

A bond that connects all, carried on the breeze.

Though seemingly weak, I hold immense might,

Crumbling castles with an invisible bite.

I am the builder, the destroyer, a force to behold,

A story untold, yet a truth to be told.

What am I?