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 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