- Death is one of the many mysteries that comes to my mind. Oftentimes, when I think of life, I think of death as well. I sometimes think of the day that I die and wonder what would I be doing, where would I be, who would be with me, and what would I be feeling?
- I think that I am too sensitive for anything about life that even death affects me. I sometimes say to myself that I am too silly to feel this way, that I should not be too receptive of such things --- of anything about life, about why am I here, about why such things (good and terrible) happen. But at the same time I think that I am made this way for a reason. And plus, is it not because of death that makes living a journey to be experienced, to be valued and to be celebrated? Death gives essence to life because it is through death that we know that everything we experience in our human existence will come to an end.
- 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'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.
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