Do not stand at
my grave and weep
I am not there.
I do not sleep
I am a thousand
winds that blow
I am the
diamond glints on snow
I am the
sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle
autumn rain.
When you waken
in the mornings hush
I am the swift
uplifting rush
of quite birds
in circled flight
I am the soft
stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at
my grave and cry
I am not there;
I did not die.