A departure

This blog specializes in exposing sociopaths, analyzing hypocrisy, political analysis, wry reveries, and humor. In other words, sarcasm and snark. It generally stays away from heartfelt sentiment. 

But I happened to stumble across this poem yesterday. I found it moving, so want to pass it along. There are two versions of the poem. The first is a 1932 version, the second is the original Pagan version:

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 awaken in the morning hush
I am the quick uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.

      -- Mary Frye 1932

---

Do not weep for me for I have not gone.
I am the wind that shakes the mighty Oak.
I am the gentle rain that falls upon your face.
I am the spring flower that pushes through the dark earth.
I am the chuckling laughter of the mountain stream.
Do not weep for me for I have not gone.

I am the memory that dwells in the heart of those that knew me.
I am the shadow that dances on the edge of your vision.
I am the wild goose that flies south at Autumns call and I shall return at Summer rising.
I am the stag on the wild hills way.
I am just around the corner.

Therefore, the wise weep not.
But rejoice at the transformation of my Being.

   --Author unknown

Addendum, same day:  I'm told that this poem is a popular choice at funerals. I haven't been to many funerals, and hadn't realized that.