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 awaken 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.