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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 of snow. I am the sunlight on riped 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 flights, I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand on my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. ~Anonymous |