markpainter

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 the snow.I am the sunlight that ripened grain;I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the mornings hush, I am the swift uplifting rush,Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die.