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
