Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Amidst the world of men I stay
But I am hidden,
Managing to do my work unbidden
And unnamed.
My face is known, but not for what it is,
Except in fleeting moments,
And a quickly disappearing glance;
The company, I feel, is rather strange.
The prospect of improvement seems remote.
Besides, this massive and peculiar pile
Melts
Into a unity of quiet meaning,
A carnival of silence,
And who am I to stop the show
Or ask to see the script?
I simply stay
As one enthralled,
A captive of the motion,
To finish up this simple form
And be, perhaps, of some assistance,
Then return no more.