I keep coming across this beautiful poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, so I decided to make a copy of it for my Blog. I believe I will feel this way when I die. And, I want to think that the people I love will be in this state, as well. I just wish I could feel this comfortable about the death of my borzoi, but of course, we all know that is too terrible a thing for me. I cannot accept that. I am nothing; they are everything I ever had worth anything good. If I was ever good, it was because of them.
“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 the 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.”