> Duveyoung wrote: > > 10 inches on the ground, can't see even a block > down the street, wind howling, and no end in sight > here. To me, it's a perfectly wondrous funereal shroud of white, > and with one's master gone > nothing else can be seen, and Vata's singing a final song. > > Edg
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's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die... http://www.sedona.com/html/grief-poems.aspx
