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 mornings 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.