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 sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awake in the mornings' hush I am the swift unflinging rush of quiet birds encircling 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.

McCollum (detail)

 

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