Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep I am in a thousand winds that blow I am the softly falling snow I am the gentle showers of rain I am the fields of ripening grain I am in the morning hush I am in the graceful rush of beautiful birds in circling flight I am the star shine of the night I am in the flowers that bloom I am in a quiet room I am in the birds that sing I am in each lovely thing Do not stand at my grave and cry I am not there, I do not die Mary Frye