The Janitor

Hiya.
I'm the janitor,
just as you suspected.

Not from my uniform,
as I'm dressed unremarkably.
Nor some badge,
because I'm not in your org chart.

See, I know the building,
The whole thing,
Including the crawl space.
So, so much crawl space.

You remain occupied,
with bold dreams,
scarcely registering enclosure
with such boldness to pursue.

The audacity feels real,
The building mundane.
Little stuff.
No match for aspiration and triumph.

Me, I'm earthy.
Simple.
Far less than captivating.
And yet...impertinent.

Not that I'm rude.
Oh, no, never that.
But I lack deference
Toward my betters.

The higher floors are HIGHER floors
While I'm consigned to basement—
Yet am at ease everywhere,
Which seems weird.

I'm never seen sweeping,
Mopping or fixing.
Though my presence
can be oddly reassuring.

Who is this guy,
Simple and floating,
Rolling his eyes in mild amusement,
As you all contain multitudes?