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's gift of snow

I am the sunlight on a ripened grain

I am the autumn's gentle rain

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds of 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.