Mist

Mist

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there

 I do not sleep

 I am the thousand winds that blow

 I am diamond glints on snow

 I am sunlight on ripened grain

 I am gentle autumnal rain

 When you waken in the morning – hush

 I am the soft uplifting rush

 Of quiet birds in circled flight

 I am the soft stars that shine at night

 Do not stand at my grave and cry

 I did not die