Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep

  Do not stand at my grave and weep,
  I am not there, I do not sleep.
  I am in a thousand winds that blow,
  I am the softly falling snow.
  I am the gentle showers of rain,
  I am the fields of ripening grain.
  I am in the morning hush,
  I am in the graceful rush
  Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
  I am the starshine of the night.
  I am in the flowers that bloom,
  I am in a quiet room.
  I am in the birds that sing,
  I am in each lovely thing.
  Do not stand at my grave and cry,
  I am not there. I do not die. 

Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905-2004)