Still Waters

The still waters remain untouched.
As calm as the dead.
Appearing as glass, upon which one could walk.
No tiny little waves or ripples.
Just blackness and stillness.
Not even the breath of the wind, creates a noticeable disturbance.
Color so translucent, like a two way mirror.
Looking into the unknown.
Looking down, trying to see through,
what lies on the floor of this body of motionless,
nothingness.
No movement or sound.
Like a painting of something that was real,
but is just a illusion, an imitation of existence.
How can something so powerful,
so real,
so eternal,
be so untouchable and seem so,
fearless?
There is something so
surreal,
Magical, and Mysterious,
about its stillness,
That without even a motion.
So silent and cold
I am all alone.