* * *
   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 `s 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.

   Anonymous