A　THOUSAND　WINDS

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's rain.

When you awake in the morning bush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.