Do not stand by my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am the sun on ripened grain; I am a soft and gentle rain.

I am the thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glint on snow.

When you waken in morning's hush I am the sweet uplifting rush of quiet birds in circle 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.

 Lovely Carolyn