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 glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am gentle autumn rain. When you waken in the morning hush, I am the soft uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine in the night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.
Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being.
Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light.