gosane

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow,
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful ruch
of beautiful birds in circling fligth,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom.
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there.
I do not die..


Mary Elizabeth Frye