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.
At the Mid Hour of Night
A moving funeral poem by Thomas Moore about mourning for a lost loved one, suitable for religious or non-religious services.