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.
all these years holding a fool drying his tears the fool walks off but always comes back because being held keeps him on track
he'll go and explore the world and live in illusion and when all goes wrong I'll hold him til he finds his solution only to watch him run off again leaving me to wonder when he'll return
with my arms wide open to hold he'll come and go as he pleases knowing I'm there when he gets cold
so being the fool that he is doesn't think he needs this doesn't think he's naive doesn't even know how to believe
he's a fool with a limb to lean doesn't think what would happen if I was no where to be seen