Monday, January 6, 2014
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. Sorry for your loss.