An Epitaph

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning hush,

I am the soft unflinging rush,

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the soft star-shine in the night.

And so my friend, do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die

Amen