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 star-shine at night.
do not stand at my grave and cry..
i am not there. i did not die.
[mary frye]
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