Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I did 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 morning's hush. I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet 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. - Mary Elizabeth Frye
