It is a beautiful day clear, sunny, and blue.

Only a few clouds scattered across the lonely sky.

It is cold, the water is unmoving,

ready to freeze at the slightest touch.

Like a mirror, the water reflects everything it sees.

But not the birds, for they have no soul.

The islands around are jagged but natural.

Large stones jutting in every direction,

what was once a tree sits on the closest island.

The life sucked out long ago making it look like bone.

Even in death, the water still reflects it. But the birds, 

neither dead nor alive, the water refuses to reflect them.

As they fly around they are quiet as night.

The flap of their wings not making a ripple in the water.

The water is still clear as glass no ripple in sight. 

The enchanted island steals all souls. As you start 

rowing your boat to leave the oar does nothing.

The enchanted island has claimed your soul too.