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 rain. When you waken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet bird 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 A prayer from the Canadian Indians, British Columbia