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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 glint on the snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do no stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there.
I did not die.
Indian Prayer |