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I did not die

January 11, 2009

by Mary Frye

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 on snow.

I am sunlight on ripening grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush

of winged birds in circled flight,
I am the soft star that shines at night.

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

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