My post of missing my mother who passed away earlier this year, wondering what happens in life after death.
Do not stand on 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 sunlight 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 flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
I am 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.
(Poet: Mary E. Frye)