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 a diamond glint on snow.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.
Mary F Frye