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 softly falling snow
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush,
Of beautiful birds in circling flight
I am in the starshine of the night
I am in the flowers that bloom
I am in a quiet room
I am in the birds that sing
I am in each lovely thing
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I do not die.
~ by Mary E. Frye 1932
This world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don’t know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.
Emily Dickinson
~ Emily Dickinson
Witches Of The Craft® 