Do not stand at my grave and weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a 1,000 winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circled light,
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.
Anon, 20th century