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 a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on 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 circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

 

by Mary Elizabeth Frye 

 

 A beautiful, beautiful poem. Just a few, simple words...and in them holding such profound truths! Amazing! 

 

I'd donate my body, but I think I'd still want a grave though. Would b nice if someone comes and cries a li'l sometimes. Guess I've a long way to go before I learn to let go.