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 that glints on the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awake in the mornings 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 1930s
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