Grand Finale

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

For I am not there,

I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diomand glints on the snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumns rain.

You awaken in the morning's huch

I am the swift uplifting rush,

of quite birds in circled flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there,

I do not die.