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 the birds that sing
I am in each gentle thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
ported from an earlier content management system
– ported
– I may as well push the date way back. I mean.. because why not, it’s not like I did any commentary on it.
– date estimated