Everything there is. It began about 13.8 billion years ago, it is still getting bigger, and the part of it we can see has an edge — not because the universe stops there, but because light has not had time to reach us from any further.
Nobody can picture the universe. What you can picture is the ladder: the Earth is a ball you could walk round in a couple of years. The Moon is thirty Earths away. The Sun is four hundred Moons away. The nearest star is a quarter of a million Suns away. Our galaxy is a hundred thousand light-years across, and there are about two trillion galaxies. Each rung is a real measurement somebody made, standing on the rung below.
Everything was once packed into something unimaginably hot and dense, and it has been expanding and cooling ever since. That is not a guess — three separate pieces of evidence say so, and they were found by three groups of people who were not looking for them.
Ordinary matter — every star, planet, person and rock — is about five parts in a hundred. About a quarter is dark matter, which has gravity and nothing else we can detect. The rest, roughly two thirds, is dark energy, which is pushing the expansion faster and which nobody understands at all.
Stars so dense a teaspoonful would weigh as much as a mountain. A galaxy with a hole in the middle. Two galaxies mid-collision. A star that collapsed into a black hole and simply went out, with no explosion at all.
The universe is not somewhere else. You are in it, and about half of it is over your head right now.