Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
Like diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
and 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 starts that shine and sing at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
There's still a spark somewhere.