to begin with

A playground it shall sometimes be,
this land, this home,
filled with a sense
of the unreal, the mysterious,
the unanswered.
Every color has its tale,
a story that amazes me
with its brutality and fervor.
Indulging in the coziness of
empty halls, mansions and gardens,
I begin to sculpt
with the clay I chanced upon
in the nearby woods,
dreaming that one day,
a statue of an angel
would come alive,
startling me with his dance.