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 awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

"I will protect you," you said. But you lied.
"You can count on me," you said. But you lied.
"I care about you," you said. But you lied.

"I'm not like the others," you said. But you lied.
"You can trust me," you said. But you lied.
"I love you," you said. But you lied.

"I'm fine..." I said. But I lied.

i've started the wake
and said my piece
now it's everyone else's turn
to come to peace
with the fact that we're a dying generation

indebted for life
to the systemization
that we've grown up in
as it's organization
comes to our lives full of frustration and grief

called to a calling
that's been rather loud
to make our lives something
in a way to be proud
of the life we've been given and what we've done with it

                                              living just to die
                                                         living just to live
                                                           ­     living in the wake
                                                           ­             of another generation