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 sun 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.
By Mary Elizabeth Frye
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room...
I am but waiting for you,
For an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner...
By Henry Scott Holland
14th July 2014