Do not stand at my grave and weep

 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. 
.
Mary Elizabeth Frye