Never Gone

Do not visit my grave and weep
I was never there; I do not sleep
I am a cooling wind that blows
The patterns in the flakes of snow

As the sun shines across the plains
I am the world in a single drop of rain
The flow and power of the rivers rush
The beauty in an artists paintbrush

The shining stars in the dark of night
When singing birds take to flight
Do not visit my grave and cry
I was never there; I did not die

Stoic Poetry

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