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 the sunlight on ripened grain...
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning rush
I am the swift uplifting rush...
Of gentle birds in circling 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...
~Irish poem
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Words that are written. Some are mine, some are not. Some hold meaning, most do not
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The Unnamed Sin
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