Do not stand by 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 awaken in the mornings hush I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there.

I did not die.

-Anon-