Immortality

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 here; I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye