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Thursday, March 23, 2017

A Thousand Winds ~ Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at 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 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 at my grave and cry; 
I am not there. I did not die.

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