Saturday, December 20, 2014
Autumn Rain
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a 1,000 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 circled light.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
Anonymous
