Charles E Runewicz

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 diamonds glint of snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the autumns gentle rain.

When you waken 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.