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 awake 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