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 the snow,
I am the sunlight on a ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn 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 here; I did not die.
By Mary Frye
I found this poem and was touched by the idea of immortality and the prospect of eternal life. Do not mourn your loved ones too hard. Instead, celebrate their memory and let their souls soar.