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 glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am gentle autumn rain. When you waken in the morning hush, I am the soft uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine in the night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.

Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being.
Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light.
Albert Schweitzer