becoming infinite

always learning. always growing. always lifting heavy things.

poem i can’t get out of my head.

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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.

 – mary elizabeth frye

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Author: jenn

impossible to define; indefinitely impossible. maybe i'll add more here later.

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