I am nobody.

 I walk the hall of many placesthe streets of blooming and barren citiesand the molding of rooms full and emptyis my footpath.These are not new haunts, or lurks, for me;I have sat in the shadows of giants,nursed at the teet of revolutions,And spoken into the ear of power therefrom my beige on beige perches and portals.Those who possess kind words leave onlysheer slugs trails of personal expression and experienceMy near invisibility intact when I, seated, am nearwhen the exchange of profession and proclamationsof projects produced are rung out.My history, footprints, leave no trace thereand there is no reminders as to where I have tread.