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's 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. Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; They live in one another still