Peter Ostamus

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 the diamond glints in snow.
I am the 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.
Do not stand by my grave, and cry—
I am not there, I did not die.

This has been shared 0 times

Memories and Condolences

- Oldest Newest