For those of us out on the Llano and listening for the singing in the Dura...this says it.
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Frye (1932)
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not
sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow;
I am the softly falling
snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain;
I am the fields of ripening
grain.
I am in the morning hush;
I am in the graceful rush.
Of
beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am
in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
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.