In loving memory

Do not stand at my grave and weep, 

I am not there - I do not sleep. 
I am the thousand winds that blow, 
I am the diamond glints in snow, 
I am the sunlight on ripened grain, 
I am the gentle autumn rain. 
As you awake with morning's hush 
I am the swift-up-lifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circling flight. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry, 
I am not there - I did not die.

      -  Mary Elizabeth Frye

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