Thereon to the wind

As usual it was underway
of the outset I cannot say
and so here I stood before it
a building worthy of any writ
with flanking columns so roman
its façade an austere omen
of this museumesque station
yet though it had sure foundation,
it was at an angle when viewed
itself straight yet sight slightly skewed;
as so without as so within
all was slanted like to a sly grin
yet I stand within currently
as outside watch concurrently,
perhaps the architect of this
was horizontally remiss
or of Escher and certain kind
playing tricks upon viewing mind;
as stairs adorn along each wall
its route circular in its crawl
with marbled stairs lead upwards before
with red carpet from there to door,
of the ceiling there is no sight
further above is beyond might.
No sooner is this sight beheld
than a new vista is now spelled;
of green standing grass and blue sky
a small typhoon yet does imply
as to the sudden journeys cause
it swirls smally without any pause
without any threatening it is
while it rotates in grey whizz.
Voices, laughter, sound nearby it seems
sun shining joyous happy beams
is there a tree on sight's fringe
or do the green borders impinge
further margin mirages perhaps
another atmospheric lapse
of these mistakes I am aware
though in the moment have no care,
from such omission I can gleam
as this is but all a strange Dream.