IRC-Galleria

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
For I am not there
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond´s glint in the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn´s rain.
In the soft blush of the morning light
I am the swift bird in flight.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die.